The Power to Break Read online

“That’s where the boys are staying, too. But we’ll just go home.” She’s very sweet, and she almost makes me hesitate. “Anyway, it’s an open invitation. Any friend of Vail is a friend of mine.”

  “I appreciate that.” I can see how their group is a little family, and I long for that. I want to feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself. I’m just Maci. My band changes with the wind because the star of the show is me, and that gets frustrating. I have no one to lean on, no one to rely on but myself and occasionally Griffin.

  Someday I’ll have that feeling of belonging. It’ll come once I’m able to move on from the things holding me back.

  I appreciate Reese’s attempt to make me feel like I already fit in, but that whole thing isn’t going to work here. It’ll have to wait—it’ll have to be somewhere else. I can’t allow myself to get attached because it’ll only be that much harder in the end.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MACI

  I stare at my name on the drumhead and glance over at Ethan’s drum set just a few yards away from this one. A curtain will hide his kit for easier access once my set’s over. I wonder if he won the flaming drumstick argument. Probably—he seems like the kind of guy who gets anything he wants.

  “You been out to your bus yet?” Mark asks me.

  I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest. “Since it’ll be home for the next sixty days or so, I’m waiting until the last second to board. Those things always feel like little moving caskets to me.”

  He doesn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t even know what it looks like?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head and glance over at him. “I sent Griff with a few boxes and wardrobe carts and he’s over there unpacking for me.”

  “What if he, like, puts your underwear in the wrong drawer?”

  I chuckle. “He won’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I lift a shoulder as I watch some roadies move equipment. “He knows me better than anyone.”

  Mark waves to someone working off to the other side of the stage. “Vick knows me pretty well, too, but not like Reese.”

  “Your wife?”

  He nods.

  “Oh, Griff isn’t my—”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t suggesting he was.” He waves his hand in the air apologetically.

  I realize how defensive I must’ve sounded. “He’s just, you know, always around. He’s my manager, but he’s also my security guard and sort of my assistant. He knows everything.”

  “Fewer people on the payroll is never a bad thing.” He glances around at all the people moving to set up for the concert tomorrow night, and the irony of his words isn’t lost on me.

  “I’m careful about letting people in.” That’s a lie—sort of. I’m not careful about it; I just don’t let anyone in ever.

  “Smart girl,” he says. He taps his head with his finger to indicate I used my brain. I like him, and I’ve always wondered what his response to Ethan’s words were. I wonder if he stuck up for me, or if he told Ethan that I was good, that I wasn’t talentless. “I listened to your new album when it dropped, and I was really impressed, Maci.”

  “That means the world coming from you,” I say, my eyes back on the drums.

  “It was me who requested you for this tour.”

  I look over in surprise. “It was?”

  He nods. “I know you’re a badass. I know you can sing the fuck out of a song. But when Rush told me you’d queried Ashmark, I knew we needed you—not just as an artist at our label, but for this tour.”

  “Wow.” I don’t know what else to say.

  He pats my shoulder in the way an older brother might. It’s strange how he sort of feels that way, too. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I am, too.”

  The devil himself walks out at my words. “Did they test them yet?” He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

  Mark shakes his head. “They’re starting now.”

  I glance over at the guys working near Ethan’s drum kit, and that’s when I see a sprinkle of sparks erupt out of the bass drum in the middle of his kit.

  “Fuck yeah,” Ethan says, punching his fist up into the air.

  “And the sticks?” I ask.

  “He lost that argument,” Mark says, “but this was our compromise. This won’t risk setting his hands on fire.”

  I try to imagine someone else drumming for Vail, but I come up short.

  “Such a responsible man now that he’s going to be a dad,” Ethan says, rolling his eyes.

  “What?” I ask.

  Mark shoots Ethan a dirty look.

  “Sorry,” Ethan says, holding up both hands in surrender. “You know I have a big mouth.”

  Mark glares at Ethan. “Reese is four months along.”

  “Congratulations,” I say. Is a hug appropriate here? I don’t really know him, but I sort of do.

  “Thanks.” Mark nods to Ethan’s hands and changes the subject back modestly. “Anyway, those hands are pretty important to our final product.”

  Ethan shakes his head and laughs. “Notice the subject change?” he asks me.

  I chuckle.

  “He always does that when he’s terrified of something, but he’ll never admit it.”

  Mark shoves Ethan. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Boys, boys, let’s settle down and get to work.” The gorgeous Vail assistant named Vick whirls in between what’s about to be a fight between two grown children, but I imagine she’s used to breaking up these two. They’ve been best friends for a million years and they’ve traveled the globe together several times over.

  “Mark, I need you,” Reese says, stepping out from backstage with her phone poised at the ready. “I’m doing a video story for Snapchat.”

  Mark murmurs softly to me, “You don’t know a thing,” before he turns to his wife. He strides over to her, kisses her on the cheek, and asks where she needs him. The things I’ve heard about Mark Ashton are similar to what I’ve heard about Ethan when it comes to the ladies. I haven’t followed his personal life the way I’ve followed Ethan’s, though, and it appears he met the woman who was able to tame him. As I glance over at Ethan, I can’t help but think there might not be a woman out there strong enough for that job.

  Vick walks away after Mark does, and I’m left standing next to Ethan. This is our first moment alone, and I find myself without words and a hammering heart.

  “You live in LA?” he asks me, breaking the short stretch of awkward silence between us.

  “Yeah.” The sudden craving for a cigarette rushes over me, and I try to beat down the inevitable irritability that comes with the craving.

  “Can’t beat the weather.”

  “I don’t care for the hot months, but winter’s nice.” Jesus Christ. Am I really talking about the weather with Ethan Fuller?

  “Yeah,” he says.

  Where’s the badass who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of her? I twist my hands nervously together, that same habit I swore I’d break before I let Ethan see me sweat.

  “You been on a big tour before?” he asks.

  I lift a shoulder. “I’ve gone on the road a few times. Nothing as big as this.” I gesture at the people running around trying to get everything set up.

  “You’ll fit in. And if the bed on your bus gets a little too uncomfortable...” He trails off as his eyes take stock of my body before they land on my breasts.

  I raise a brow as I dig deep to find the lioness. “You gonna finish that sentence?”

  He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, and I hate the traitorous arrow of lust that darts through me at the sight of his mouth. His lip glistens, and my eyes are drawn to it.

  He shakes his head. “Mark told me to play nice. I don’t really do the nice thing, though.”

  I grunt out a chuckle. “Neither do I.”

  His lips quirk up and his eyes narrow on me. “We’ll see.”

  He spins on his heel and heads toward hi
s drum kit, and I’m left to try to piece myself back together.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ETHAN

  She reminds me of the girl who vanished.

  So much about her is different, though, that it can’t be her. It can’t be. Life isn’t serendipitous that way despite the fictional stories and movies that try to make us think otherwise. The stories in the Fuller household never have happy endings, so I learned a long time ago not to believe in them.

  I can’t help but think how close the name Maci Dane sounds to Dani Mayne. It rhymes. The M and the D are switched. Both first names end with an i.

  It’s a strange coincidence, but even if it were true, why the fuck would she hide from me? We kissed twenty years ago. We shared more than just that one moment with each other, more than one longing glance. How great would it be for us to find our way back to each other in this setting after all these years?

  I’d almost confessed how I felt a hundred different times back then, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that to her. She didn’t want a part of my world, especially not when she was so young and impressionable. I’ve made something of myself now, sure, but I still wouldn’t deserve her or her love if it really was her.

  I can still smell the warm vanilla of her hair, still feel the silky strands as I rolled them between my fingertips if I close my eyes and focus.

  But more than that, I feel it when Maci’s in the room. I don’t smell vanilla; instead, she’s a tranquil lavender, but the feelings that rush through my chest are the same, and I don’t even have to close my eyes and focus on it.

  I can’t tell just yet if it’s simply the feminine power she holds or if it’s something more, but I want to do so much more than just toss a shot at her.

  I want to kiss her, and I don’t fucking understand it. I want to feel her silky strands of blonde hair rolling through my fingertips. I want to breathe in her lavender scent, to be reminded of her every time that scent wafts its way to my nostrils just like I think of Dani every time I smell vanilla even after all these years.

  Maci Dane is one badass bitch, and from all accounts, she just might be the one woman who has the strength to put up with someone like me. Dani didn’t deserve to have me corrupt her, but Maci is already corrupt in her own way.

  On paper, we’re golden. We’re made for each other.

  In practice, though...it’s a harder sell for me.

  For one, I’m not about to give up the way I live my life just because some hot girl stepped into the picture. I’ve got plenty of hot girls lined up out the door and around the corner waiting for me, and I’m in no position to deny them what they want just because the new girl touring with us has a nice ass.

  It’s just so much easier if I boil it down to that in my own mind, because if I allow myself to think it’s anything more, we’ll both just end up disappointed.

  “Have you been playing nice?” Mark asks, flopping onto the couch on my bus.

  I raise a brow.

  “With Maci,” he clarifies.

  I shrug. “I’m always nice.”

  “So no, then.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “What are tonight’s stakes?”

  I wave my hands in front of me to indicate no. “No bet.”

  “No bet?” Surprise flashes through his eyes. “But we’ve always had a bet.”

  I shrug as I think about some of the stupid shit we’ve bet about over the years we’ve gone on tour. Anything from who could put down more shots to who could eat a whole pizza to who could get more women on their knees in one night. Mark stopped participating in the bets last year, but he’d still let me set a goal and name the stakes.

  I don’t want to bet how many chicks I can get into my bed tonight, though. I want Maci in my bed tonight.

  Just tonight.

  I’ll fuck her, get her out of my system, and move onto the next conquest.

  I scrub one hand down my jaw. “Maybe next show. Just not tonight.” I take a drag off my cigarette. Mark hated it when I smoked on the bus we shared, but he’s in my territory now.

  “You ready for tonight?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” We both hate the first night of a tour. It’s never intended to be the night where we work out the kinks because we’ve practiced every scenario a thousand different ways, but it always ends up being just that anyway. The reaction of the crowd and the energy in the building is what makes a show—not how many times we practiced.

  “First sound check in a couple hours,” he says as if I need the reminder. I don’t. He stands. “Reese asked for some footage before check. Can you meet me backstage twenty minutes early?”

  “Are we doing another Q and A?” I ask with a roll of my eyes. Mark’s wife is in charge of Vail’s social media, and she’s constantly after us to provide new and engaging content. I appreciate what she does for us even though I give Mark a hard time.

  “You bet,” he says. “Be on your best behavior.”

  I point to myself innocently. “Me? Always.”

  He shakes his head and roars out a laugh before he disappears down the steps and off my bus.

  I hate the nervous energy that fills me when he leaves. I usually alleviate it with a fuck, but somehow I feel like I’ll only be satisfied if it’s Maci’s body writhing beneath mine.

  I haven’t figured out what it is just yet, but something tells me she’s going to be more work than I’m used to. I have to play it differently than I normally do, and maybe that’s what’s catching my interest. Everything’s just been so...easy lately. A girl waiting on my bus after a show—or before. A woman in my dressing room. Another lined up on speed dial whenever I need it. No one ever says no to me, and I suspect it’s because they think they can get something from me—whether it’s money or my attention or the chance to be the one who finally gets the only remaining eligible bachelor in the band to settle down.

  Now that’s something I can guaran-fucking-tee isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  * * *

  I’m drawn to the side of the stage before we meet for our pre-game rituals. Call it curiosity, though it’s obviously more than that. I head over with Mark after he asked if I wanted to check out our opener. Of course I wanted to, if nothing else for professional reasons, and he had this grand idea for me to be the one to invite her to sing our last song with us once midnight struck.

  And I have this grand idea to kiss her at midnight.

  It would give our fans something to talk about, certainly, and I’ve never been one to shy away from making headlines. All press is good press. That may not be Penny’s motto, but it’s definitely mine. The more times people hear our name, the more records, concert tickets, and merchandise we sell. All that equals more money in my pockets, and it’s money I earned in a respectable way rather than lying, cheating, and stealing the way I was taught from the paternal example in my life.

  Mark stays for the first two songs of Maci’s set, but I stay for the entire thing. I stand there, arms crossed over my chest as I let her voice wash over me. Even her voice is familiar, but it’s easy to pretend that’s because I’ve listened to her music loud in my earbuds on repeat for the past few months.

  “Ethan Fuller.” A low and sultry voice comes close to my ear somewhere in the middle of Maci’s set. I glance over as I feel someone tugging on my arm.

  “Tiffany Summers,” I say, recognizing one of my regular Vegas friends. Mark has a place out here, plus its nickname is Sin City, so I hang out in Vegas quite a bit even though Vail is based out of Los Angeles. “How’d you get back here?”

  “Chuck,” she says.

  I nod. Of course. Chuck has explicit instructions to allow hot girls onto my bus, into my dressing room, and backstage. I wonder if I should talk to him—but that would mean admitting something’s different, and I’m not quite there yet.

  Chuck never forgets a face or a name—one of the things I appreciate most about him, especially when we have an event where I need to know who’s
who. That’s why Tiff’s back here.

  “Need to, uh, relax before the show?” Her hands trail down to my ass, which she squeezes as she punctuates her sentence.

  I don’t unfold my arms. “Nice offer, babe, but I’m booked tonight.”

  Surprise flashes through the blue eyes I can barely see beneath the scores of make-up and false eyelashes. “You’re booked? No one else is even back here.”

  “Like I said, it’s a nice offer. I appreciate it.”

  “So that’s a firm no, then?” Her hand rolls around to grasp my cock through my jeans as she says the word firm and finds out for herself that it is indeed firm. It has nothing to do with the woman tugging on my side, though, and everything to do with the woman dancing her way across the stage.

  “That’s a firm no,” I say, finally moving my arms so I can remove her hand planted on my jeans. I guide her with a hand on her back away from the stage. I’d hate for Maci to glance over and see another woman manhandling me the way she is. I give her a hug as I hear instrumentals coming from the stage—I assume Maci’s taking a mid-show break, and this is perfect timing. I don’t want her to know I’ve watched her entire set.

  “Thanks anyway,” I say to Tiffany.

  “You’re sure?” she asks. She looks shocked I’m denying her and hurt that I don’t want to immediately drop what I’m doing so she can pleasure me wherever and whenever I want, but this is what I mean. Everything has been too easy, and I’m losing the thrill of the game in all of it. I want a night with someone who captures my interest, and tonight, Tiffany just...doesn’t.

  I return to the side of the stage after Tiff exits, and Maci is back on stage.

  The only woman to capture my interest in a long time is currently belting out the words to my favorite song of hers, a late track on her first album never released wide but absolutely breathtaking. She digs deep as she sings, pouring her heart into the words and leaving every bit of her being out on that stage. She holds nothing back, and it’s that song I’ve listened to over and over as I got to know every nuance and every shade of her angelic voice.