Too Good at Goodbyes Page 2

  He rises, straightening slowly to rest his palms on his desk surface. “If you want to look at it like that, then sure.” His calm tone irritates me even more. “You need to get your shit together and figure things out. You’re not in a good place, and I can’t sit by and watch it go on any longer.”

  The finality in his voice tells me everything I need to know. He’s thought this through already, so my protests are futile. It’s a done deal.

  “For how long?” I resent the resignation in my tone. This is such bullshit.

  He shrugs. “A few months. Whatever it takes. We’ve got the manpower to cover you.” With a grunt, he says, “Go somewhere. The mountains. A tropical island. Hell, go back home to see your family. Just”—there’s a break in my friend’s steely façade, the worry evident in his eyes—“come back with the old Kane.”

  I work hard to suppress the sick churning in my stomach. Because he’s asking for something I’m not sure I can deliver.

  I’m not certain the old me will ever make a comeback.

  Serving in the military as a Green Beret helped me become the man I am. The training molded me into one of the toughest and most resilient warriors.

  I can’t lie and say I’m not embarrassed as fuck to have a woman gut me. For her effect on my life to bring it to this.

  My first week off is spent sitting on the deck of my place in Fernandina, pouting like a pansy ass as I stare at the ocean as if it’s fixing to deliver mutiny.

  No one calls. No one comes by. I’m pretty certain Fos told the others to back off, which is fine. It’s not like I’m in any shape for company. The only contact is a text from him.

  Get out of the area. Go find yourself. Hug a goddamn tree or something.

  It’s quickly followed by another.

  We’re here if you need us. Take care of yourself.

  The following week and a half, I hike through the Smoky Mountains. Still no calls or texts, aside from the one from my cousin Jude down in Saint Augustine.

  I know I had to find my own way, and it took a while. I really hope it doesn’t take you as long as it did me. I’m always around if you need me.

  The week after that, I drive down the Keys and do some deep-sea fishing. Or really, more pondering my life while staring at the expanse of ocean and getting exactly zero bites on my hook.

  Then I book a flight to my hometown to see my mom, sister, and nephew in Texas, knowing I can’t put the visit off any longer. Being around them helps me feel a little more like my old self, especially around my little nephew, Travis. But I’d have to be blind to miss the concerned looks my sis and mom exchange when they think I’m not looking. They’ve never been ones to pry, but I know they’re worried about me.

  Now, I’m back home and unpacked with a load of laundry in the washer. Sitting on the back deck, I nurse a beer while watching the sky darken as the sun sets. The peacefulness can be a double-edged sword. It can be soothing until that precise moment my mind starts to wander into dangerous territory.

  Does she think of me? Does she ever wonder what could’ve been?

  Fuck. I take a long slug of beer as if it’ll somehow cauterize the open wound in my chest. Which is the exact moment my phone rings. It’s been so long since someone’s called me, I’d nearly forgotten what it sounded like.

  I frown when I look at the caller ID. David Camden?

  “Hey, man.”

  “Windham!” His friendly voice is familiar even though I haven’t seen or heard from him in a while. Shit, how long has it even been? I reckon the last time I saw him was at his wedding. “How are things?”

  I grimace, actually grateful he can’t see me. “Same old, same old.”

  He chuckles. “I hear ya.” There’s a pause, and I frown because he’s always been a straight shooter. If he’s hesitating, this can’t be good. “Uh, listen, I’ve got a question for you. Well, a favor, actually—if you’re interested.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly.

  “You know how I’ve been Simone King’s personal head of security for the past seven years? Well, I’m looking for a temp to take my place while Shelly and I go on our honeymoon—finally.” He lets out a short laugh. “It’s only taken us a year to try and make this happen.”

  I slump into a chair and stare up at the ceiling. “You know I don’t have experience with that scale of security.”

  “I know.” He sighs. “And to be honest, I tried other guys with experience first and well…they got scared off because of the requirements and…” He trails off, and I know what he’s not saying.

  “Because of her,” I supply. It’s no secret the press goes after her like a pack of bloodthirsty hyenas after a lame gazelle. But Simone, the so-called Ice Princess of Pop, doesn’t exactly come off as Mother Teresa, either.

  “Yeah,” David answers on an exhale. “You’d have to be willing to travel with her, escort her to and from events and interviews…that sort of thing. But the pay is great.” He rattles off a number that makes me nearly choke on my beer. Once he finishes naming some of the US tour locations I’d be escorting Simone to, he falls quiet.

  “When do you need an answer?”

  I can practically hear him wince through the phone. “As soon as possible.”

  “And this would be for about three months?”

  “Yeah.” He sounds apologetic. “I tried talking her down to a month, but she insisted we go on an epic honeymoon, and she’s footing the bill, so…”

  Huh. That doesn’t really fit the image of the well-known pop star.

  “That’s pretty damn generous.”

  David’s tone turns defensive in an instant. “She’s not how they make her out to be, Windham. I wouldn’t still be working for her if she was.”

  Fair enough. I run a hand along my beard. “Can you shoot me an email with the schedule of tour dates? And my exact duties? Just so I have an idea of what I’m lookin’ at.” I absently pick at the corner of the beer label.

  “You’ve got a flexible schedule?”

  My smirk feels brittle as hell, like my face is about to crack. “More flexible than you know.”

  Three days later…

  I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and realize just how badly I’ve wrecked myself. Shit, I reckon I actually do resemble a sad replica of Moses with this damn beard. Not to mention, I’ve slimmed down considerably. Sure, I’ve still got muscle, but I’m nowhere as bulky as I was before.

  A new emotion rises to the surface, pushing past the hurt, and it gains momentum the more I note the changes in my appearance, finally looking at myself without blinders on.

  Anger. So much motherfucking anger.

  I let her do this to me. By her dismissal of me and my feelings for her. By letting her play me for a fool.

  After using the beard clippers, I lather my face with shaving cream. With each smooth swipe of the blade across my skin, I vow to myself that this’ll never happen again.

  Never again will I let a woman in. I’m just not sure I’ve got anything left to offer anyone else. Because of her, I’m hollow inside.

  I’m man enough to admit I haven’t handled this rejection well. Then again, I’ve never had a woman rip my heart out of my goddamn chest before.

  Once I rinse and towel dry my face, I actually feel a fraction better. And I know this is the closest I’ve come to trying to move past things.

  I need to suck it up and draw from my years as a Green Beret. I survived the bleakest conditions; pushed through the shittiest of times. We endured circumstances that would break the average person and push the toughest men to the brink.

  I’ll do what I did back then. Survive another day until the days turn into months. And the months will eventually morph into a year.

  Maybe one day, I’ll be able to hear her name without it hurting so damn much.

  3

  Simone

  California

  Early May

  “I’m only worried about leaving you.” David’s expression is pained.
“Especially after the break-in.”

  “David,” I say gently, placing my hands on his shoulders. “I’ll be fine. I trust you and know you’ve prepped him with all the info he needs to keep me safe.” Taking a step back, I offer what I hope is an encouraging smile. “Now, let’s meet your replacement.”

  Visibly relaxing, he scolds me playfully. “Temporary replacement. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, kiddo.”

  David treats me like I’m his kid sister and while that might irritate some people, I grew up without a father—well, I had one, except he was an incoherent alcoholic when he actually stuck around—so I embrace it.

  Although I’m his employer, he never sucks up to me as most people tend to. He’s a straight shooter and will tell me when he believes I’m taking risks with my security.

  David tugs open the door to the hotel suite and murmurs a greeting. “Come on in, and we’ll get the introductions out of the way.”

  The instant the man walks through the door, it feels like the air is too thick to breathe, my lungs seizing at the sight before me. This is David’s replacement?

  “Kane, I really appreciate you helping out. I was…” My ears tune out David’s voice as I remain stock-still, staring at the devastatingly handsome man who’s just entered the suite.

  Pure, unadulterated shock reverberates through me, all the way to the marrow of my bones, at the sight of Kane Windham.

  Don’t get me wrong, David’s no slouch in the looks department. However, my longtime employee’s physical appearance pales in comparison to this man.

  While David is shorter and thin but fit, Kane is much taller with broad shoulders leading to strong, muscled arms and a lean torso clad in a black button-down shirt. The imposing strength of his body is evident; something clothing can’t mask.

  With a belted pair of black slacks that mold what look to be powerful thighs and end with a pair of sleek leather shoes in the same color, I barely suppress a shiver of pure sexual awareness as I study Kane. He wears what David and my security team wear, yet on him, it serves to accentuate his body.

  My eyes drink him in. He’s beautiful in such a natural, unpolished way, with lips that complement his sharp, square jawline. Worn in a neat, short cut, his hair appears as though an artist painstakingly chose to combine honey and mocha brown to create a perfect shade of dark blond. Irregularly scattered through it are streaks of light blond I’d bet all my Grammy awards are from being in the sun as opposed to being salon-born.

  I’m surrounded by gorgeous men—models chosen for my music videos, those I meet at events, and even the men I’ve dated in the past—but there’s a significant contrast between this man and those perfectly groomed, sometimes cosmetically enhanced men.

  An intense, unexpected flurry of emotion catches me off guard, the reaction overwhelmingly unwelcome: fiercely undeniable attraction. Something I can’t afford to feel.

  Anger, disappointment, and heartbreak are what I’ve repeatedly experienced with the men I’ve been with. It’s puzzling that after all that’s happened, my body would still react like this. That my heart and brain would allow the rest of me to respond to this man.

  Damn traitorous hormones. They should know better by now.

  “Simone, I’d like you to meet Kane Windham.”

  This stunning man will be shadowing me for the next few months. I need. To get. My shit. Together.

  “Simone?”

  David’s voice breaks through whatever stupor has gripped me, and I snap my attention to him. “I’m sorry?”

  Mild confusion colors David’s features, and I know why. It’s unlike me to not pay attention.

  “Simone, I’d like you to meet Kane Windham.” Oh, shit. When I realize that Kane’s hand is extended, waiting on me, my haze immediately vanishes.

  David eyes me curiously, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Same, dude. Same.

  Ensuring that my poker face is engaged and nothing I’m feeling is showing outwardly, that the crazy flutter of emotions is carefully hidden beneath my façade, I meet Kane’s unflinching gaze.

  His Southern accent is warm and at odds with the hollow look in his stunning blue eyes. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  I can’t help but wonder what put that hollowness there, contradicting the presence of those tiny lines fanning from the corners of his eyes, proof of frequent smiling or laughter.

  Not your business, Simone. With a quick shake of his hand, I offer a professional smile because I know what people expect. Most believe what’s written in the tabloids or spread online. Sure, it sucks, but I can’t do much about it. They’re going to write what sells.

  And famous people acting like assholes sells.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Windham. David’s postponed their honeymoon too many times for my liking, so I’m grateful you’re able to step in for him.”

  David starts off quickly, addressing Kane. “I’ve already explained the arrangements while on tour, but as a quick recap...” He gestures to the closed door on the opposite side of the suite, where he normally stays. “After dealing with a fan who’s broken into her Atlanta house twice already and then one who’s disguised himself as a bellboy attempting to gain access to her room in two other locations, for safety precautions, it eases my stress to be nearby Simone.”

  He frowns before quickly adding, “But don’t worry about your own privacy being violated because this one”—David thumbs in my direction, eyes alight with teasing humor—“is probably the most boring musician I’ve ever worked for.”

  “Hey.” I playfully shove at David’s arm. “Watch it, buddy.”

  He grins before turning back to Kane. “The main security personnel under your advisement are Jed and Vance. They’re two of the best men I’ve ever worked with.” He starts toward the closed bedroom door, where Kane will soon settle in. “Come on, and I’ll show you your space.”

  When the men disappear into the room, I have to resist the urge to follow them, which is bizarre since that’s one of my self-imposed rules: Never set foot in David’s room. I may be his employer, but the last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable by forcibly inserting myself into his private space.

  I can’t lie and say there haven’t been times when I’ve wanted to, though. When my best friend is elsewhere and I wish I had someone to talk to. Or even someone to just be around. To sit in silence with and stare at the television. Anything, really.

  I know, I know. Poor little Simone. Woe is me. Such a sad, rich musician who has multiple homes and more money in the bank than most people can shake a stick at. Boo-hoo.

  What people don’t tell you is that fame comes with a steep price tag. It attempts to steal your soul. To obliterate your heart. To incinerate your morals.

  It means being surrounded by people you’re not sure you can trust.

  It means being surrounded by people you know you can’t trust.

  And if you’re smart enough to figure things out—to weed through and try to avoid the soulless, morally bankrupt, heartless, and untrustworthy—you’ll find yourself dealing with a shit-ton of loneliness.

  Welcome to my world.

  “We can sit down and make that addendum to the contract. Get it out of the way real quick.” David strides back through and into the common area of the suite nearby where I’m now curled up on the couch.

  Kane follows him, and I fight to keep my eyes from lingering in places as they trace a path down the length of his body. At over six feet tall, his body is no stranger to hard workouts. Muscled thighs encased in those black slacks, his biceps strain against the material of his button-down shirt with each movement.

  David gestures for Kane to take a seat in one of the four chairs at the table where an iPad sits. He picks up a stylus pen and taps on the screen a few times, then types something in before sliding the device to Kane.

  “This is the contract I sent over to you earlier. The addendum is listed here…” My employee drones on, and I lean my head back against the couch c
ushions, my eyes falling closed. Maybe I can grab a quick nap before rehearsal…

  “Great! We’re all set then.” My eyes snap open at David’s voice. “This’ll be forwarded to your email, and your check will be direct deposited like we discussed. If you hit any snags with payroll, Rachel can help you get that straightened out.”

  The two men rise from their chairs and shake hands. I lower my feet to the floor and shove up from the couch. David turns to me with a warm smile. “Well, this is it. I’m out of your hair for a little while.”

  I draw to a stop in front of him. “Try to enjoy yourself.” With a stern look, I arch an eyebrow. “And stay off your phone. We’ll be fine.”

  He looks as if he’s about to say something, but then he turns to Kane. “Do you mind giving us a moment?”

  Finally, there’s a faint flicker of life in the man’s aquamarine eyes. And I’d bet my money it’s probably because he thinks I’m about to jump David’s bones right before he leaves for his damn honeymoon.

  Great. One more person to add to my shitty excuse for a fan club.

  Kane nods and excuses himself, exiting the suite. David waits for the door to fall closed with a soft click before turning to me. His expression is somber, lined with concern. “You know I’ll be a plane ride away at all times if anything happens.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I paste what I hope is an encouraging smile on my face even though, secretly, I’m a little nervous. Especially since I’m due to start interviews leading up to the movie’s release and we’re in the midst of our US tour. I’ve never done any of this without David by my side. “And the last thing I plan to do is bother you on your honeymoon.”

  “I’m serious, Simone.” His brow creases with worry. “I want to be in the loop if anything happens.”

  “Nothing will happen except for chaos like usual. I promise,” I say softly. Tipping my head in the direction of the door, I wink. “Now, get outta here and go enjoy time with your bride.”