The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

Violet was quiet for a moment, then she tilted her chin up to look at me. “Do you enjoy any of this? Rolling Stone made it sound like you didn’t.”

“I love being on stage. Being with the fans. But the rest of it is surreal.”

“How?”

“Everywhere I go, people tell me how great I am, even if they don’t know me. Even when I’m being a complete jackass. I haven’t had a real conversation with anyone in six months. I only have to say ‘I’m thirsty’ to send ten different people scrambling to bring me a drink. I know it’s the height of douchebaggery to complain about shit like that, but I think it would be really fucking easy to let it all go to my head. Giving to the charity makes me feel like I’m honoring my mom’s struggle and not forgetting where I came from.”

Violet smiled and kissed my chest over my heart. “I love that you said that.” She cast her gaze down, her voice softening. “What about your dad?”

My stomach tightened into a knot, erasing the lazy heaviness. I sat up and reached for a glass of water from the nightstand. “What about him? I know why he’s calling after seven years, and it’s not to congratulate me. He wants a cut.”

Violet moved to sit beside me and pulled the sheet up around her chest. “Maybe. But maybe not. Instead of wondering what he wants, ask yourself, instead, what you want. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Why would I want to talk to him? He ruined our lives. We had to live out of a fucking car. Mom had to do…horrible things to help us survive. He doesn’t deserve for me to answer the phone.”

She rested her cheek against me. “It’s not about what he deserves, Miller. It’s about what you deserve. If you talk to him, maybe it would bring you some peace.”

“Or it might just make everything worse.”

Violet’s hand slipped into mine, and she kissed my shoulder. “Only you know what feels right.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “He might not try back, anyway. I told the entire team I wasn’t taking his calls. Maybe I missed my chance.” I gritted my teeth against the ache in my heart at that thought.

“I think everything happens for a reason, but we can’t always see it at the time.”

I gave her a look. “Even us? It’s taken us years to get here. Except, now I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She snuggled into me. “If you thought I was a nag about your numbers before…”

I laughed and kiss the top of her head. “I miss your nagging. The doctor irritates the hell out of me, but it always made me feel good that you were taking care of me.”

“Maybe that was meant to be too,” she said. “I’ve been thinking more and more about my path as a doctor. Being a surgeon was an idea that I got stuck on, like having a crush on River Whitmore. It was just always there, but I never examined it. But now I have been, and I don’t think that being a surgeon is right for me.”

“That’s been your dream since before I met you.”

She took my hand, traced the lines on my palm with her finger. “It may sound weird, but I’ve been feeling more and more that the key to knowing what is right is to get out of my own way. That’s how it was with you. I had to stop calling what I felt for you anything other than what it was. Real. Inevitable. Maybe it’s the same with my career.” She looked up at me, her smile brilliant in the soft light. “Maybe it was right in front of me, staring me in the face all along.”

My eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to sound too weird or crazy, but maybe being an endocrinologist is part of how we just fit.”

I frowned. “I’m the guy you’ll have to take care of?”

“We take care of each other.”

“How? What do I give you in return?”

“You take care of my heart,” she said softly, then grinned. “You’ll be my on-call musician who writes me love songs when I need them. Speaking of which, since this is your last concert for a while, do you think you could score me a ticket?”

“Hell, I can put you on the stage.”

“No, no, no. I want to be like everyone else, watching you in your natural habitat while the entire world screams for you.” She shook her head in mock annoyance. “I mean…who do you have to screw around here to get a ticket to a Miller Stratton show?”

I laughed and hauled her on top of me. “You’re looking at him, baby.”

Morning turned into late morning, and we hauled ourselves out of bed. Violet was in the adjacent room getting dressed for our flight to Seattle while I lingered over our room service breakfast at the table.

Dr. Brighton arrived to check my vitals and blood sugar levels.