Damaged But Not Broken (New Adult Rockers) (17 page)

Paige bites her lip, and nods,
still not saying anything.

“Please, say something.”

“There’s nothing to say,” she
whispers.

“Paige, please. Be angry or pissed
off, or something!”

“I let my guard down,” she chokes,
“I knew better.”

I don't have time to say anything
else before she bolts from the table, grabs her guitar and hurries out of the
bar.

I jump up and run after her,
chasing her out into the parking lot.

“Paige! We can’t leave things like
this! We need to talk!”

Paige whips around, her eyes
flashing. “There is nothing left to talk about Blake! Please don’t rub salt in
my wounds by trying to be apologetic. Just leave me alone!”

I stand there, shocked, not
realizing that I was only making things harder for Paige.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Paige’s face contorts in pain, and
then she jumps into her car and drives away.

I stand there in the parking lot,
feeling even worse than I thought I would. I had played with Paige’s emotions
and I knew how fragile she was. And the awful thing is that I still fucking
love Paige, but I feel like I owe it to Savannah to try to work on things.

I drive home thinking of the two
women who I love and keep hurting, and I wonder when I’ll be able to stop
fucking up and make the right choice.

Was I really doing the right thing
by trying to work on things with Savannah? Would I be happier and better off
with Paige? At least Savannah had given in and said I could go on tour with
Paige.

I pull my truck into the driveway
and turn off the engine. I sit there for a while, feeling cut up over Paige’s
expression when she got into her car.

I quietly let myself into the
house, expecting to find Savannah curled up on the couch where I left her. I
realize that I probably should have brought her home something to make her feel
better, but it’s too late for that now.

Instead, I hear Savannah talking on
the phone and I can hear her rummaging around the kitchen.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says
dismissively, “I told him I had a stomach ache and he left the house.
Whatever.” She laughs and there’s a pause. “Right! Like hell he was going to
dump me. I consented and told him he could go on tour with that bimbo, but I’m
not any idiot. All I had to do was cry a bit, act contrite and tell him I’ll
stop being a bitch. He was eating out of the palm of my hand!” She lets out a
huge laugh.

Me. She’s talking about me. My head
spins. It was all a fucking act. She said all those things, cried all those
fake tears just to prevent me from breaking up with her and embarrassing her.

I see red and I can feel the blood
pounding in my veins. I reach out to the wall to steady myself. I take a few
deep breaths and then walk into the kitchen.

FIFTEEN

Paige

Burned

I spend the next four days holed up
in my part of the house, churning out music and crying my eyes out. I’m not
sure what I expected, but I have only myself to blame for the turn of events. I
should have stayed away from Blake, I should have kept my distance, I knew he
was engaged. I played with fire and I got burned.

My dad knows something is wrong,
and I have no idea whether or not he suspects drama with Blake. He’s kindly
kept his distance and had the housekeeper stock my fridge with plenty of food
so I don’t have to venture into the main part of the house unless I want to.

Blake has tried calling me multiple
times a day, and today is the first day that he hasn’t called, which is a
relief. My momma has called a few times and I wonder if my dad asked her to
call me. Either way, she left a few messages saying that she hoped things were
going well.

Becky has emailed me a list of our
tour dates and cities and I printed it out and tacked it on my fridge. Our tour
is in ten days, and I'm torn about having to spend so much time around Blake.
We would be performing in the same clubs and venues, and would be sleeping in
the same hotel. My dad would be with us for the first week and a half, and once
things were running smoothly, he was leaving us in the hands of one of his
capable managers.

My dad had also set me up with an
appointment with a personal stylist. Jami, the stylist was due to arrive in
about ten minutes. I wasn’t looking forward to our appointment, but I had
showered and dressed anyway, not giving much care to how I looked.

I head into the main part of the
house so I can greet Jami when she arrives and lead her back to my room. The
doorbell rings right on time, and I pull the door open. Jami stands there,
smiling broadly, looking nothing like I had imagined.

I had pictured some stuck up
Nashville girl, with big hair and flashy in-your-face fashion style, but she’s
dressed in casual jeans with a lavender silk top. Her hair is cut into a long
bob and she looks only a few years older than me.

“Paige?” she asks.

“Umm, yes. Hi.”

“Hi! I’m Jami. So nice to meet
you.”

“You too. Come on in, please.”

She follows me inside, toting a
large plum leather bag.

“Great house,” she comments.

“Thanks. My dad has done very well
for himself. My room's this way.”

I lead her down the long hallway
which branches off into various rooms like my dad’s office, the small library,
and the movie room.

We walk through a bright sitting
room that overlooks the patio and pool, and then we step into my portion of the
house.

“Very nice in-law suite,” she says
appreciatively. I lead her to my small living room and motion for her to put
her bag down.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“A water would be great, thanks.”

I disappear into the kitchen and
return with two waters.

“Alright,” she says, pulling out
some files and a notepad. “I don’t know much about you other than what your
dad’s secretary told me.” She does a once-over and I wonder if I should have
made more of an effort.

“I don’t usually look like this. I
just kind of showered and got dressed,” I say, feeling like I need to explain
my appearance.

Jami nods. “So, tell me a little
bit about your style.”

Hmm. I’m not much of an authority in
the style department, but I give it a go. “Well, I’m not really big into
style,” I admit. “I just moved here from Bristol, so I felt like I needed a bit
of a wardrobe update. I gravitate to sundresses when I’m just hanging out,” I
stop myself. “But I guess that’s not what you care about.” I sigh. “I usually
wear dresses when I perform, or jeans and a nice blouse. I can show you what I
have in my closet.”

“That would be great,” Jami says
encouragingly. “And don’t worry,” she adds, “I’m not here to judge you. I know
this probably feels weird. I’m just here to build up your wardrobe a bit, and
help you define a more definite style for when you’re onstage.”

I feel a little more at ease as I
show Jami to my closet.

“Nice,” she exclaims, going through
my clothes. “You have a lot of really nice pieces.”

We spend the next hour and a half,
going through my clothes and Jami shows me some pictures of a few shirts and
dresses she wants to add. She takes some Polaroids of great outfits, and places
them in a small binder for me so I have pre-made outfits that I can pick out
while on tour. I have to admit that it’s pretty cool, and I like being able to
flip through a book to decide on what outfit to wear.

Jami has some photos of me
performing on stage, though I’m not sure who took them or when, but she likes
what I do with my hair and makeup so she’s not worried about that.

Jami pushes herself off the floor
by my closet and smiles again. “This will be easy,” she assures me. “I’ll come
back with some pieces to fill out your wardrobe and then take the remaining
pictures. You will have plenty of outfits to cover your tour. And I think
keeping it sweet and natural, with just a bit of sexy is the perfect look for
you. You want to show off your assets, but in a tasteful way, you know?”

I can live with that, and this has
been more fun than I had hoped.

“Thanks again for your help."
I say. "I’m glad I’m not as hopeless as I feared.”

Jami shakes her head. “Not hopeless
at all.” She lowers her voice and makes a face. “You should see some of the
closets I’ve had to work with.”

I laugh and she gathers up the rest
of her things. I walk her to the door and she promises to be back at the end of
the week with the rest of the clothes. I should probably worry about what this
is costing my father, but I figure he’s writing it off as a business expense.

I close the door behind her and
walk into the kitchen to grab a snack. I hear a knock at the door and figure
Jami forgot something. I pull the door open to see Blake standing there,
looking like hell.

The smile on my face is frozen in
place as I slowly process that it is not Jami, but is in fact Blake.

“What are you doing here?” I ask
bluntly, not worrying about my manners. I hate taking this tone with Blake, but
I’m too hurt to act otherwise.

“Please, Paige. Can I come in to
talk to you?”

“I’m not really sure that’s a good
idea.”

“Paige, I
need
to speak with
you. Five minutes.”

I could cause a scene but that’s
not going to do one bit of good since we’re about to go on tour soon. And I
hate the idea of making things ugly with Blake. I hope we can get to a point
where we can be friendly and I’ll be able to forget about how he crushed my
heart.

I let the door swing open and step
back. Blake walks inside, looking around.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” he
says.

“Why don’t we sit at the table,” I
say abruptly, moving towards the kitchen table. I don’t offer Blake anything to
drink and instead take a seat and look at him expectantly. I have no idea what
this could be about and I just want him to get it over with.

“Look, Paige. I was a complete ass;
I know that. Seeing you again has been so confusing for me. I was shocked to
see you at first and then spending time with you was so wonderful. You were
just the way I remembered you, only even more charming and attractive. It made
me feel like the past thirteen years were nothing, and we were picking up again
where we left off.”

He stops talking and I look down at
my hands. I can’t look at him right now, because I know exactly what he’s describing.
Except for me, it’s even more emotional because my short time with Blake has
helped me heal more in two months than I did in thirteen years.

“I just assumed that my
relationship with Savannah was normal. That was how it was for some people, and
I was willing to put up with all her crap. But then I was around you again, and
everything felt so right and so easy, that it made me see my relationship with
Savannah in an entirely different light.

And right or wrong, the more time I
spent with you, the more I envisioned being with you. Once that seed was there
I couldn’t get it out of my head. I was constantly comparing Savannah to you
and she was always coming up short.”

A tear slides down my cheek, and I
quickly wipe it away, angry with myself for showing such emotion. I’m not sure
if Blake notices, but he continues.

“The problem I kept having was
whenever I was with you, I would doubt my relationship with Savannah. And when
I was with Savannah, I would wonder if I had just imagined how great things
were with you. But then I finally decided it was you I wanted, and I ended
things with Savannah.

But she cried and apologized,
acting so upset and humble that I was thrown off guard. I had never seen her
like that, and she had me thinking that I had made the wrong choice. That maybe
things with Savannah weren’t as bad as I had imagined.

After we left things at the
Clipper, I felt terrible for hurting you. I went home to Savannah, only to hear
her on the phone laughing to her friend about how she had fooled me. How all
she had to do was cry a few tears and act all sorry, and I was back to eating
out of the palm of her hand. She played me, so I wouldn’t humiliate her. It
wasn’t even about me. She just didn’t want to be that jilted girl whose fiancé
dumped her.”

My eyes widen at shock with what
Blake has told me. I loathe Savannah even more than I already did and I feel
sorry for Blake, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he said he wanted
to be with me, and then changed his mind and went back to Savannah.

He pauses as if waiting for me to
say something. I almost open my mouth to say that I’m sorry for him, but he
decides to continue.

“So, I came here to tell you that I
ended things with Savannah once and for all. I was so angry when I heard her
and I just went ballistic. I was throwing stuff, and knocking over chairs. I
can’t believe I bought her bullshit and then hurt you in the process, because I
know the damage with you was already done.

I threw Savannah out, told her to
pack up her shit and be gone by today. She tried to fight it, but finally knew
I was serious when I began to gather up her stuff and throw it into trash bags.
I threatened to call the cops when I get home tonight if she's not out there
completely.”

I’ve never really seen Blake angry
and I try to picture him storming about his house, throwing Savannah’s
belongings into plastic trash bags. If I weren’t so hurt, I would probably be
cracking up right now.

Blake starts again. “This morning
her parents showed up with a truck, and they moved everything out. I haven’t
heard from her since.”

Now he waits, and the silence hangs
in the air between us.

“What do you want me to say,
Blake?” I ask quietly.

His face is hopeful, but it falls.