Because of Luke Read online

  For the past few weeks, I've run several miles a day. At first it was difficult to get back into, but eventually it became habit. I even lost a little weight. And it worked. For the most part, I'd be too tired to have sex if I tried. Plus, the fact that I'm constantly wearing sweats and stuffing my face must be doing something to ward off any advances from Dave. Though, I never much worried about that.

  I was sure it was my new active lifestyle that had my body doing weird things. But now I know better.

  I never get sick. Ever. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've thrown up. I get colds and headaches. I don't get nauseous. And for the past week, I've been nauseous. Every morning, bolting out of the bed and snuggling with my toilet.

  I'm no doctor, but I know I'm pregnant.

  That last night with Lucas is on constant replay in my mind. And no matter how hard I try to recall, I can't remember if we used protection. All I remember is his hands on me, his lips on mine, him inside me. I've worked hard to forget and now it's all I can think about. And Dave? He would barely peck me on the cheek, until a few days ago. How will I explain this to him? What will I do?

  My first instinct was to seduce him. To make him think it's his but...there is a part of me, and not even the honest part, that doesn't want that to be the case. I don't want a cop out. I want Lucas.

  I'm showered and cleaned up by the time Dave arrives an hour later. Ready to come clean myself. I know it won't be easy, but I also know it's necessary. He kisses me the moment he walks through the door and, as I have been for the past few days, I'm completely swept up in the moment.

  The kissing started the other day. It was unexpected, but welcomed. It meant adding another mile to my run, but I didn't mind. Not one bit. His kisses aren't like Lucas's but their just as sweet. This kiss is fervent and innocent and when he looks at me, I see admiration, not lust. When he pulls away, devastation rocks through me, as I realize this might be the very last one.

  "What's wrong?" he frowns as I silently lead him to the living room.

  "It's the end of July," I start.

  "I know." He smiles.

  "We've been together for just over a month and no one even knows."

  Dave grins. "You're ready to tell our parents, aren't you?"

  I shake my head. "I want to. But things have gotten...complicated."

  "Why?"

  I sit across from him, folding my hands in my lap. "Dave, you know our relationship kind of just...happened. I never planned to start dating anyone again. Not now."

  David frowns, his handsome face appearing somewhat sexier. I suddenly wish he would frown more often. "What's going on?" He grips my hand. "You're not having second thoughts about us, are you? Because I thought we were finding our way back. That we had something good."

  "We do." I take a deep breath. But—and I know how this sounds—good things come to an end."

  "You're breaking up with me?" There's that frown again. His blond eyebrows appear darker when they're drawn downwards. And that deep line that stretches across his forehead ages him by about five years. He doesn't look like a fresh faced college boy when he's upset. He looks like a man I'd fight other girls off just to hold onto. But that ship has sailed.

  "I'm pregnant." I blurt it out. I cover my mouth with both hands, barely able to breathe, I thought getting it off my chest would release the ridiculous amount of tension, that has settled into my shoulders and neck over the past few hours. But it hasn't. Instead, my guilt is stifling me and saying those words out loud only makes it more real.

  I have a child growing inside me. The child of a man I barely know. I'm a preacher's daughter. An older sister. The good one. The responsible one. And I'm knocked up.

  Dave grips the sides of the arm chair his pale blue eyes so wide it's created a new mask. He's a child now. A scared little boy, who has lost his way.

  "How?" The word is so tiny, barely hanging on the tendrils of shock between us that I have to strain to hear him. "How could you be...?" And then realization hits. Only it's not actually what's real, it's what's logical, what's perceived. "Why? I thought you said you were okay with waiting." He is beginning to cry, not that I can blame him, but it makes him so unattractive I'm instantly nauseous. Again.

  "Wait." My voice is shaky when I respond. "It's not what you think."

  Dave laughs. His large hands muffle the frustrated growls that follow. When he finally places them in his lap again, there is so much angst written on his face, I jerk back. "What am I thinking, Shannon?"

  I wish I knew. But I can guess. And it makes me feel like the worst person who ever lived. "Please, just hear me out."

  He gets up from the chair and shuffles toward the door. "I'd rather not."

  "You need to." I catch the sleeve of his shirt in my hand. "It's not what you think."

  Maybe it's the expression on my face or the way I'm clinging to him like a desperate little girl, but he lets out a sigh and his face softens. And just like that, I wish I'd let him go. Let him think what he wanted. Because telling him what I have to now, is so much worse.

  Miami, Florida

  Sheila

  I pound my fists on the door my entire body shaking. At this rate, it's likely I'll wake up the whole damn floor, but I don't care, I just keep pounding and shrieking.

  And freaking.

  Roscoe finally swings it open half a minute later practically burning me to the floor with a hateful scowl. "Can't you see I'm busy?" When he realizes it's me, his eyes widen a bit and he steps back into the shadows, using the door to cover his naked body.

  I smirk and push my way in after him, turning my back as I wait for him and whoever the hell he's got in his bed to get decent.

  "This couldn't wait," I say, my voice trembling. I've only given him enough time to pull on a pair of briefs and the blond he's been playing with to disappear into the bathroom before I turn back around and throw my arms around him. "I've got the best news. Get everyone together. It's huge."

  It takes another hour before we're all gathered in the room: Dash half asleep, his back against the door, Ryan apparently high on something bouncing on his heels, Luke standing next to me and Roscoe pacing between us.

  "Okay, so you all remember Jerry Cowell, right? The A&R guy from Columbia? I met him back in Baltimore. The one you all said I was wasting my time with? Well, he showed up here in Miami, as promised. It turns out he was interested in more than my boobs.” I turn a scowl on Roscoe and he shrugs. “He wants to meet with you. He left a message for me at the desk. He loved your set and he says if there's a demo he'd love to hear it and if not he can help you set it up. He's got a good feeling."

  For several seconds, it's dead silent and I open my mouth to repeat myself. But before I can get another word out the whooping and howling begins and I am tackled by an overdose of testosterone.

  "Wait, what?" Luke is the first person to request an encore.

  "He's offering to record your demo. He says labels don't do that kind of thing unless they think you've got something. And, baby, you've got something." I jump up, wrap my arms around his neck and plant a hard kiss on his lips.

  The room goes silent again and when I turn around all eyes are on the two of us—especially Roscoe's.

  Luke wriggles free, offering a sheepish grin. "Yeah, so hey, I've been meaning to tell you guys..."

  "Hell, no," Dash glares at me and I scowl back.

  "What?" I ask, arms crossed. My gaze moves from him to Ryan who's rubbing his forehead, and finally to Roscoe whose expression I can't even read, at first.

  His eyes are on his brother. He doesn't look angry or surprised, but as Luke looks up at him, then immediately drops his gaze, I get it. Disappointment.

  "Okay, so I just tell you guys you're about to get signed by Columbia Records and this is what you're focusing on?"

  Luke rests a hand on my shoulder. "I'll handle it," he murmurs. "Why don't you head back to the room."

  "You're sharing a room too?" Dash's laugh is humor
less, as he runs a hand through his hair. "It's the Beatles all over again."

  "Excuse, me?" My voice has risen an octave and a decibel and I'm standing in front of him now. "I'm sorry, Dash. But since when is my love life your business?"

  "Oh, it's love now," he chokes out. "Even better."

  Angry tears form in my eyes and I take in a shaky breath.

  "Shut the fuck up, D." Luke's hand rests on my back.

  "Listen to me you little punk," Dash replies in a low controlled tone. He is inches from Luke his index finger resting on his chest. "If you fuck this up, I'll do the same for you. I know as well as everyone else in here you're not really into this. And if, for some reason, you let this little..." His voice trails off as he glances over at me. "The band comes first."

  My stomach twists and my blood runs cold as the tension in the room continues to rise. Ryan doesn't even look at me, as he brushes by, following Dash out of the room. When the door closes behind them leaving the three of us in an awkward triangle, Roscoe is the first person to speak.

  "Go back to your room, Sheila." Our eyes meet. "Your room."

  "I didn't get one," I say quietly.

  "Get it now."

  "Hey, fuck you." Luke steps between us. "You don't own her, you pay her."

  Roscoe nods once and bows his head. For several minutes all I can hear is the sound of our breaths and, I'm pretty sure, the rapid beating of my own heart. He finally uncrosses his arms from over his chest and turns his gaze back on me.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're fired."

  Luke

  It's the sound of the door slamming that brings me back to my senses. Sheila didn't say a thing. She didn't rant and rave like she normally does. She didn't throw things at my brother's head or threaten him in anyway. I'd been standing there several minutes. Waiting for the backlash. But that was it. An angry exit.

  "What did you just do?" I can't bring myself to scream at him like I want to. I'm too shocked.

  "You were here. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to salvage what's left of my night."

  Roscoe casually walks past me toward the door and something inside me sparks. Something I haven't felt in a long time. Because for the longest time, he hasn't been my brother. He's been my father, my mother, the only person in the world who actually gives a damn about me. The person who saved my life. But tonight he's assumed his position all over again and I hate him for it.

  There's no time to stop my body from doing what my heart is telling it to. Even though it defies all logic, my mind isn't fast enough to put a freeze on what I now realize—as my fist connects with the side of his face—is a very bad decision. Before I can throw another punch, he's got me in a solid headlock, his arm squeezing my neck so tight I can barely breathe. I struggle to get a few jabs in but he's skilled, from years of practice. He tackles me to the floor and the next thing I know, his knees are denting my burning chest and I'm screaming for him to get the fuck off me. I struggle to my feet, giving him one last shove as I stumble backwards.

  My fingers only ache a little and the burst of blood trickling down the side of his chin ignites a sense of satisfaction I haven't felt in years.

  "You need to calm down." Roscoe wipes his lip with the back of his hand. "Calm down or I'll fuck you up. It's been a while since I put a good beating on you, but I'm not above it. Don't get it twisted, little brother."

  "Why'd you do that?" I'm breathless, my throat raw.

  "So I'm just supposed to let you haul off and punch me with no consequences?"

  "You know what I mean," I say. Eyes narrowed, I flex my hand.

  "I hired a tour manager. Not a groupie."

  I laugh. "If it had been you, you'd be singing a different tune and you know it. You're just jealous."

  Roscoe shakes his head, his laughter dry. "I know better."

  "You hired a high school drop out to manage our books and you know better?"

  His jaw twitches and, when he takes a step toward me, I flinch. "I hired a smart girl who helped get us further than I ever imagined. And now you're fucking her?"

  "It's not like that."

  "Oh, yeah? What's it like?"

  I take a deep breath, avoiding his gaze. "It just happened, all right? She's not...we're not just...I like her."

  "She says love, you say like." Roscoe squeezes the bridge of his nose. "This is a mess, Luke. It's a mess waiting to happen and you need to get out of it now. I'm doing you a favor."

  "I thought you guys were friends. She thinks the world of you. How could you just...?"

  "She'll get over it." He waves me off and heads back toward the door.

  "This is her dream, Ross." He freezes and I quickly close the space between us. "She's been a fan since she was fifteen, but it's more than that and you know it. She started Roscoe's Diamonds. She's stuck around for the past three months even though you guys were acting like a bunch of idiots half the time. She's an eighteen-year-old girl who took a chance on us. On all of us. You can't bail on her, when she didn't bail on you. You know you can't. Sheila may be a lot of things, but she's not a groupie. And even if she was, even if she still is to some degree, she's more. She's part of the band. It's not going to be the same without her."

  He doesn't respond and as the door closes behind me for the third time, I lower myself onto the bed, head in hands.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Shannon

  "Marry me."

  I suck in a hiccuppy breath. "What?"

  Dave grabs a hold of my hand, gripping it between his. "We could get married."

  I shake my head slowly, but he stops me, dropping my hand and cradling my chin.

  "We could. We should. You can't do this on your own. You said it yourself. But...I could help."

  I sniff and offer him a watery smile. "Don't be stupid, Dave. You're young...and free. I could never ask you to do that."

  "You're not asking. I'm offering." He drops down to his knees in front of me and places a hand on my belly. "I want to be there for you."

  I sigh. "I already told you. I'm...there's someone else. I can't pretend with you, it wouldn't be right."

  "Shouldn't I determine what's right for me? I love you, Shannon. I always have. I like spending time with you, talking to you, kissing you. And I don't care that you love someone else. Because he's not right for you. I am."

  Love someone else? Coming from him, the words sound crazy. But at the same time, not entirely impossible. I do feel something for Lucas. Sure, it's intensified since I found out I'm carrying his child, but it's always been there. I've just never considered it love. I'm not sure what it is.

  My gaze falls on Dave again. I want to shake him to his senses. Send him running for the hills while he can. I don't need to complicate his life, but a part of me knows he's right. Lucas can't love me. Not after only a few weeks spent together. He more than likely only loves what he can do to me. Which is why he dragged me up to that room in the first place. But here I sit with a man willing to give me his all. Why? Because he wants me. Not my body. This isn't lust. It's more. I'm pretty sure it is love. I don't feel the same as I used to, but there's no saying those feelings can't come back.

  "Dave—"

  "You won't talk me out of it. I know you've already started making up reasons in your mind. Reasons you should turn me down, reasons you should run back to him. But you said it yourself, he's bad for you. That's not the life you want." He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "We're friends. I've known you all my life. And the fact that I could even get you to talk to me after what I did, was a miracle in itself. I don't want to lose you again, Shannon."

  I close my eyes and drop my head.

  "This isn't exactly ideal, but it can work. Your parents won't go nuts on you, and I can help you. I've always wanted kids. Sure, I'm jumping the gun a little but I'm good with that. I can handle this. Trust me."

  I do. Because even after everything that happened, he came back to me. He's done everything he can to make it up to me. And I
know he's right. This pregnancy won't go over well with Mom and Dad and as easy as it has been for me to defy them in the past, it's always blown over. Something like this won't blow over. I'll have to look them in the eye every day and they'll know what I've done. I'm not as much of a rebel as I thought I was.

  "How?" It's a loaded question but, as usual, Dave gets me.

  "We can do it right away. Your dad has that conference in California next month and he's talking about taking your mom with him. We'll do it then. It'll be spontaneous and stupid—that's what we'll tell them. We got to talking and realized we were so right for each other we couldn't wait. But we're more than willing to have a real ceremony later on."

  "No," I say, massaging my temples. "Mom will never buy that. When it comes to the two of them, the truth is best."

  "You're going to tell them?" Dave's eyes widen.

  "Not the whole truth," I say. "Just what they need to hear to make this okay. But," I hold his gaze, "it's going to make you look bad. And, Dave, you’re truly a good guy. Everyone knows that. Are you sure you want to tell my parents you…knocked me up? Are you willing to tarnish your relationship with Reverend Carlson?"

  "Whatever makes you happy."

  We sit at the dining room table across from my parents. My fingers are entwined with Dave's and I'm gripping so hard, he nudges me every so often and I remember to let up. Mom is smiling ear to ear and Dad's knowing smirk, the one I know won't last long, is spreading, threatening to become just as wide.

  "Well?" Mom urges me on. "You had something to tell us?" Her gaze drops to our linked fingers and her lips bleed white as she presses them together in anticipation.

  I open my mouth to speak but all that comes out is a croak. This time Dave tightens his grip.

  "First," he says. "I want to profoundly apologize for what I am about to tell you."