Page 28 of Return To You

I smile at her to be polite because, apparently, you can’t just chuck women out for being flirty. I ask, “Would you like an autograph?”

She grins, then licks her filled bottom lip. “You could autograph my tits in the morning.”

I internally wince; people seem to think I’m a bad boy and would be turned on by that kind of proposition, and I get it; I have piercings, I smoke, I have tattoos, and I swear like a fucking sailor, and yeah, in high school, I was a badass, but a certain redhead brought out my sweet side, and then I transformed tothis heartbroken, angry singer that the girls ate up. Now, well, now I’m just numb.

I haven’t physically touched another girl since Rose, and honestly, right now, I don’t plan to. I can’t. My body wouldn’t let me even if I tried. I mean fuck, this girl basically has her nipples showing in her see-through dress, and my dick hasn’t even twitched, yet if I think of Rose wearing that in the bedroom, it’ll go hard as….Ah fuck.

I breathe through the thought, not wanting this girl to get the wrong idea, willing my cock to go down.

Cameron.

Barnett.

Joel.

Mom….

Internally I sigh with relief before giving my attention back to the girl before me, thankful my cock has softened.

Her eyes eat me up and a frustrated groan escapes me. I could tell her to fuck off, but she’ll take it as a hard-to-get moment and try harder, so I do what I always do. I lift up my left hand, put all my fingers down bar one, and show the name tattooed on my ring finger.

Her blue eyes widen in shock, her lustful look disappearing, and she stutters, “I-I didn’t know you-you were married, I-I thought it was a rumor.”

I smile at her. I heard about the rumor, and the gossip sites are all speculating, because of the heartbreak in my lyrics, that my wife left me or I cheated, and wanted her back. Then there’s the fact that no one has seen me kiss another girl. Because I haven’t denied or confirmed, the rumor mill is getting wild, and that’s how I want it to stay.

A sick part of me hopes she’ll hear all about it and feel like shit, just like I do day in, day out.

“It’s not something I announce to people,” I admit and give her part of the truth. “She’s my high school sweetheart, fell in love at fourteen, and she has been my only.” She goes to open her mouth, most likely to state we could keep a quick fuck quiet, probably seeing the pictures of me with other women that were made to look more than what it was, and I turn my arm and show her the initial with over fifty roses around it, proving no one will come close. I rasp, “I’ve added a rose in each state we have visited because her name is Rose.”

Yeah, I’m a big badass over here, pining for a girl who cheated.

She swallows buts nods, holding out a paper and pen. Willingly, I give her my autograph, and she hightails it over to a group of girls, looking defeated, and shaking her head. I hear her mutter, “The rumors are right. He’s married to his high school sweetheart. He won’t cheat.”

I grin when the girls groan and complain, bringing up the photos of me with other women, asking if she was sure.

So fucking predictable.

Shaking my head, I go to the men and shake hands, taking pictures, before slipping out the back door, knowing the boys won’t be back at the hotel until morning, giving me enough time to try and finish the song I’ve been working on: “Falling Petals.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you didn’t take anyone home with you last night, and wrote a whole new fucking song,” Cameron groans from beside me in the SUV, but I ignore him.

He and Barnett have been on at me to move on and live my life, but I’m not ready. While I’m still writing fucking songs about her, I can’t move on, I just can’t, it wouldn’t be right to the person I decide to try with.

“He’s right, Noah, I mean I love Rose, I do…and I’ve spoken to your mom. She’s adamant you need to speak to her, but you won’t, and she won’t explain to me why. Dude, I think the nicestthing you can do for both Rose and you is to move on, and I know all your songs are about her, and she’s been your muse for nearly six years, and it's given us our careers, but you’re not fucking happy, and it’s just depressing now,” Barnett says, but I ignore him as well.

Mom would call continuously and bring her up, and I just couldn’t cope with it any longer. She’d beg and plead for me to contact Rose, and exclaimed that it wasn’t what it seemed, that I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

Now, I won’t answer her calls.

The pain of hearing my mother standing by the girl that spent four years lying to me and cheated on me, and had another man’s fucking child…. There’s only so much someone can take.

“Noah…” Barnett tries again, but I cut him off.

“I don’t need this right now, Barn. We’re five minutes from my mom’s house, and I don’t have the strength for this right now.” I don’t look at him as I speak, I keep my eyes on the scenery, watching the town we grew up in fly by.

I’ve only been home once since I left, and that was for an hour to pay my respects to Cal’s family. I didn't want to bump into Rose, so I was going to keep the visit short, only to find out she wasn’t at the funeral; she was not welcome.

No one says anything for the remainder of the drive, which I’m grateful for.

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