Wright that Got Away (Wright)

I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. She jerked her head back at me. “What?” she snapped.

“What if it wasn’t a joke?”

For a split second, I was back in high school. Back before I got everything I’d ever wanted. All save for one. Because I’d had Blaire Barker. Once upon a time, she’d been mine. And now, she wasn’t.

We stood there in that space, and everything else just vanished. Her blue eyes had widened. I didn’t know if it was shock or surprise or disgust. She thought so little of me now, and how could I even blame her? The one person I’d cared about the most was the person I’d hurt the worst. I didn’t deserve to have this conversation. Eight years wasn’t long enough for my penance. Not for someone like Blaire.

I was the asshole in this one. I knew it. I’d known it a long time. It was why, despite returning to my hometown eighteen months ago, I’d hardly spoken to her. I’d hardly even let myself look at her. Because I’d known the second that I did, the dam would break, and I’d be standing waist deep in shit. As I was currently.

Her gaze shuttered. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” I asked as if I were an innocent in this.

“Any of it.” She tugged her arm out of my hand. “It’s not fair.”

“Blaire…”

“Eight years, Campbell,” she said so low that I almost didn’t hear her. But God, I fucking loved hearing her say my name. “It’s been eight years. You can’t change a single fucking thing that happened.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I don’t think you’d trade it for what you have.”

I gulped. “But—”

“You’re used to everyone falling at your feet,” she said, continuing right over my protest. “So, stop all your little games and the stupid fucking charisma that works on everyone else. It’s not happening. Do you understand?”

And I did.

I understood completely.

It didn’t matter that I was a famous rockstar. Blaire Barker was out of my league.

“Yeah. Sure.” I ran a hand back through my messy hair.

She was still looking at me. As she had purposely not done since I’d returned. “I’m serious, Campbell.”

“I hear you. Loud and clear.”

She didn’t look like she believed me. And I didn’t know if I believed me either. When I wanted something, I went after it with all that I was. It was how I’d ended up in Cosmere in the first place. It was how I’d risen so quickly to fame once I settled into the band. Everything had taken off like a jet.

Now, I was looking at her again. At her big blue eyes, filled with concern. That heart-shaped face and those pouty lips and perfectly arched eyebrows. The body and the brain and the smile. Though she hadn’t smiled in my direction, I’d seen her radiate with it when talking to other people. And I wanted it pointed at me again. I wanted what I couldn’t have. But I wanted it nonetheless.

“Well, well, well, what a show!” a voice rasped.

I jerked my head up in surprise to find my manager, Bobby Rogers, striding toward me. “Bobby?”

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, holding his hand out for me. I shook it begrudgingly.

Bobby was insufferable and pushy and the best damn manager in the music industry. He drove me up the wall, but he also fought for me tooth and nail. He’d never pushed for me to go solo. He got us twice as much money as we’d originally been offered. And he drove a hard bargain. The only problem was…he looked like he was about to use those same skills on me.

I’d had no idea he was coming to Lubbock. I’d been home from tour for a grand total of one month, and already, he was here? That couldn’t be good.

He ran a hand down his silver handlebar mustache and set his flinty black eyes on me. “Long time no see.”

I glanced to Blaire, who had fallen quiet at the silver-haired six-foot-tall giant who had just stridden into our midst in a pin-striped suit more fit for a mobster than someone in Lubbock.

Bobby didn’t miss a beat. It was his job to use everything to his advantage. He stuck his hand out to Blaire. “Hello, beautiful. And who might you be?”

Blaire reluctantly put her hand in his. “I was just leaving.”

“No need to be shy. Any friend of Campbell’s is a friend of mine.”

“We’re not friends,” she said flatly.

Bobby arched an eyebrow at me. I wouldn’t hear the end of this. Fuck.

“Well then, any woman as gorgeous as you definitely deserves an introduction. I’m Bobby Rogers, head of Rogers and Rogers Agency. And you are?”

“I’m Blaire,” she said uncertainly.

“Any special talents?”

“Shut it, Bobby,” I snapped.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “What?”

“Bobby, my manager,” I told her. “And he hasn’t told me what the hell he’s doing here.”