Beat (Life on Stage 2)

“I didn’t want to say no in the restaurant and embarrass you. I told you that.”

“I know. I get that now. I can even appreciate it. But in the moment, I just wanted to hurt you back. So I said some pretty shitty things to get you back.”

I nod. “Apology accepted. And I’m sorry, too.”

He reaches out and takes my hand into his. “For what?”

“For the way things turned out. For everything.” The guilt inside me escapes through tears.

Dylan takes it to mean I regret that things ended, rather than that I regret the way things ended. “Let’s take a step back. I want to be with you, Lucky. I’ll wait till you’re ready.”

He totally doesn’t get that I’ll never be ready to be with him. I’ve shown this man so much disrespect, it’s time to be honest. “My feelings have changed, Dylan. I don’t want to go back or forward. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Rejection is definitely not something Dylan Ryder is used to. Shock registers on his face, then slowly morphs into something else. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? You really want to be with him?” He doesn’t hide the utter hatred in his voice.

I nod. “But I haven’t spoken to him since he left the tour. Please don’t take it out on him and ruin his career because I fell in love.”

“What?” he seethes.

“I’m sorry. It just happened.”

“You’re in love with that long-haired poser and you didn’t mean for it to happen?”

I nod, and don’t even attempt to try to tell him Flynn isn’t a poser.

“So his dick just accidentally fell inside you?”

I have no idea if he knows for sure that we’ve been intimate, but he’s lashing out and it doesn’t matter at this point. I take it because I deserve it.

“I trusted you. I was going to make you my wife, for fuck’s sake.” His expression is filled with rage.

I’m relieved when he swings open the door and begins striding across the bar.

Until I see the man who’s just walked in.

Flynn.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Flynn

After rereading her text for the hundredth time today, I walk into Lucky’s with Nolan. She’s miserable. I’m miserable. This is just fucking stupid. I know she loves her new job, but she’s talented—any record label would be an idiot not to hire her. In fact, now that I’m in search of a new label for In Like Flynn, maybe we can set up a two-for-one deal.

My newfound fame delays my entry and I sign a dozen autographs as I try to make my way inside. Scanning the bar, my eyes find Lucky coming in from the back hallway. At first, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief just being in the same room as her. But then I squint and the sadness in her face comes into focus. It looks like she’s been crying.

Brushing past the women swarming me, I’m focused on only one thing. Getting to Lucky and making her feel better.

Which is probably why I don’t see the first punch coming.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lucky

It all happens so quickly. One minute I’m walking back into the bar, Dylan a few angry steps ahead of me, then next I catch sight of a man I’ve been dying to see, yet suddenly dread being here. I watch the whole thing unravel, unable to stop it. My screams go unheard over the sound of the karaoke song blaring from the speakers.

Flynn registers me, but unfortunately doesn’t see Dylan coming. The first punch lands square on his jaw, and I watch in horror as his head whips to the side from the force of the blow.

He staggers back, his hand going to his face, momentarily confused.

“You two fucking deserve each other. A whore who belongs on stage but doesn’t have the balls, and a wannabe who has more balls than talent.”

“Say what you want about me, motherfucker.” Flynn’s voice is eerily flat. “I probably deserved that first punch. But don’t talk about Lucky that way.”

Finally pushing past Dylan’s hulking security, I scream again for them to stop, just as Flynn’s fist connects with Dylan’s nose and blood sprays everywhere.

The security team that was just standing there watching the chaos ensue finally jumps in when they see their guy get hit. Mayhem erupts and there’s screaming and shouting, but the two men are at least separated.

“Get out!” I point in the direction of the door and scream at Dylan.

“No problem,” he sneers, and wipes his nose with a towel one of his security got from somewhere. “Enjoy your fucking unemployed boyfriend, whore.” He storms away, flanked by his guards.

Flynn’s chest is heaving, but his eyes are glued to me. I don’t know what to say or do. What other havoc could I bring down on this wonderful man? “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Cell phones are snapping pictures a mile a minute and the cops are probably not far away.” Flynn’s friend Nolan tugs at his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” Avery shouts. I didn’t even realize she was next to me. She tosses something to Nolan and he catches it. “Lucky’s place. She’ll meet him there in a half hour.”

Flynn looks at me. He’s hesitant to leave, so I give him a nod of assurance. “Go. I’ll meet you there.”

Only fifteen minutes later, the bar returns to normal, although there’s still a buzz in the air and lots of whispering and staring at me. At least the cops didn’t show up.

Avery hands me a shot of a gold-colored liquid. I don’t bother to ask what it is. “This is for your nerves.” She holds it up and tips her small glass in my direction. I return the sentiment. As soon as the burning in my throat calms, she takes the glass from my hands and looks me in the eyes, speaking with a stern tone. “Go home.”

I pull her in for a hug, and afterward, she holds my shoulders, her voice apologetic. “I had no idea Dylan would show up.”

“I know.”

“Now go home and fix things with that mouthwatering man.”

I smile and finally take my best friend’s advice.

My hand shakes as I put the key into the lock of my apartment door. It’s dark, and for a split second, I think he might not have showed. But then I hear his voice.

“So I take it you’re not engaged anymore?”

I turn the living room light on and my heart leaps into my throat seeing him sitting on my couch. There’s a bruise on his cheek and his jaw is already swollen. “Let me get you some ice.”

Seeing as I don’t find myself injured often, I don’t have an ice pack. So I grab a bag of peas and sit next to Flynn on the couch, holding it to his face. He hisses at the contact. “Hurt?”

“I’ll live. Nolan punches harder, and he loves me.”

I smile. But when our eyes meet, I see his wariness. “I was never engaged.”

His brows furrow. “I saw the pictures. Looked like a proposal and a celebration to me.”

“It was. But it wasn’t.”

He waits for me to explain, rightfully confused.

“I was devastated that you were gone and told Dylan I was leaving. He asked me to have dinner with him to talk. So I did. I felt like I owed him that much. I was beyond shocked when he got down on one knee. I panicked. The entire restaurant was staring at us and he was waiting for an answer.”