Fall (VIP #3)(87)

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks, his brows rising in expectation.

“Nope. Not until it’s obvious.”

He pouts a little but then moves to pay the check. “The anticipation is surprisingly fun.”

“Yes.”

John does a double take as he realizes how his words could be interpreted and a cheeky grin spreads over his mouth. He’s about to answer me when a young guy walks up to him, gait hesitant but shoulders set.

“Hey …” The guy halts, clears his throat, and tries again. “You’re … ah … You’re Jax Blackwood, aren’t you?”

John sits up straighter on his stool but adopts an easy expression. “I am.”

The guy’s shoulders relax, then tense again. His gaze darts between me and John. “I … ah … wanted to thank you …” A violent blush hits his cheeks, and he glances at me.

I slip from my stool. “Excuse me, boys, but nature calls.”

I don’t know if John is grateful for my exit or if he’ll be annoyed when I get back. But I know he can handle himself and anyone can see that the guy desperately wants to talk to him alone.

I take as much time as I can without it appearing that I’m having some sort of issue. When I get back, they’re still talking, John leaning in to tell the guy something. He sets a hand on the guy’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze as the younger man nods, his expression tight with emotion.

I order a couple of brownies to go and return in time to take their picture with the guy’s phone.

“Take care, man,” John tells him with a final clasp to his shoulder.

The guy gives me a shy smile before ambling off, his step lighter. As for John, his mood is quiet as he takes my hand and leads me out of the diner and to his bike.

“You okay?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” But he simply holds my helmet in his hands, his expression distant.

“You can talk to me, you know,” I say softly.

He takes a breath. When he meets my eyes, his are overly bright. “He was going to do it. You know?”

My insides swoop and everything goes very still. “Yes.”

John bites his bottom lip and looks off. “But then I tried. And he didn’t.”

The faint hum of the highway cuts the silence between us. I lick my dry lips. “What do you mean?”

John runs a hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck. “He plays guitar. I’m his idol. And when I tried, it gutted him. But he said it also comforted him.” John gives me a wry, almost confused look. “The great Jax Blackwood felt the same way he did, and he no longer felt alone. He got help.”

John swallows hard and grips the helmet. When he says no more, I step closer and rest my hand on his arm. His voice is a thread. “I never thought …” He shakes his head, and his eyes go dark with emotion. “I never considered them. The fans. That I could help them.”

My fingers tighten around his stiff arm. “You can. You’ve been doing it your whole career.” He frowns in confusion, and I press on, even though I hate talking about myself. “When my dad left me, I was in a bad place for a while.”

“Babe …” He steps closer, green eyes worried. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug then lean back so I can meet his gaze. “What got me through a lot of dark days was listening to the Apathy album.” A start of surprise runs through him and it’s my turn to hold on tighter. “I listened to your voice, with all that unleashed rage, defiance, and power, and I felt powerful too.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his lips parted, clearly at a loss for words, but then his lids lower in a sweep of his long lashes. “I wish I was there for you.”

“Then you haven’t been listening. You were. You’re there for so many who need you. You’re …” I grapple for words. “Marvelous.”

John laughs then, self-deprecating and husky. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

I can see the unease creeping over his shoulders. For being a famous rock star, John isn’t entirely comfortable with praise. He’s constantly pushing it off or putting it onto someone else. I get it; I often do the same, and I know I need to back off.

I give his jacket a tug. “Right. Your part of the day is done. Now it’s my turn.”

John visibly eases and gives me a wide grin. “Bring it, Stella Button.”

“No backing out?”

He scoffs. “Please. I never back down.”

“I’m counting on that.” Before he can say anything else, I rise to my toes and kiss him. It’s nothing more than a melding of mouths, a little nip and suck of his firm lower lip. But he chases me with his mouth when I move away.

“What was that for?” he asks, smiling against my mouth, nuzzling.

“Because I can,” I say. “Because your mouth drives me mad. Because you’re so damn pretty, I can’t stop myself.”

“Stealing my lines, Button?”

“As if. Now, stop stalling.” God, I’m nervous now. I’ve never shown anyone this side of me. It’s what I’m best at, but until now, it’s been a personal escape.

John believes he’s the only one who doesn’t know anything about relationships, but I don’t either. Not romantic ones. But if we’re going to work, I have to trust in something more than myself. I have to trust in him.