Page 44 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
He was such an asshole that day, but he’d reined it in enough for Callum, the label’s head executive, to give him one more chance.
I sat and listened to Jett give the song and dance about how he’d made mistakes and wasn’t going to pull any more public stunts like his other labels had sacked him for, but I could see straight through the lies. And I’m sure Callum could too.
The problem was Jett was the one Callum was giving me my chance with. A fledgling songwriter without a hit credited to her name was being tasked to write songs for the uber-talented but equally untamable Jett Kroger. The man who had yet to have a breakout, can’t-get-out-of-your-head hit and who needed someone new to help him get that. A new songwriter.
Me.
I hated him instantly. He was everything I didn’t fall for.
But he was my big shot with the label helping me make a name for myself and break into this tough world. And hopefully calm the hurricane that was Jett in the process.
I felt like I was selling my soul to the devil in those early days. Jett and I would argue over every lyric, every note, even the places we would meet to write.
And then one night it was late and we were loopy tired, and he admitted he was scared. That if this album didn’t hit, he feared his shelf life was over. I had asked him why the antics then, and he’d shrugged with that cocksure smirk of his that told me he was either really smart at playing the part or equally as stupid . . . but a relationship was born.
Between us. Between us and Excel Records. And then when the album had a string of number-one hits, I felt a little more stable while Jett went and spun a bit more out of control.
Callum came to me, believing I could calm Jett down. He was the one who’d coined the phrase the Jett Whisperer. It was me he’d asked time and again to make sure Jett showed up when he needed to with a good attitude and compliant demeanor.
He was at the top of every chart, every sexiest man list, every free pass for wives to their husbands. And somewhere in there, we got caught up in it all and fell in love. Two people pushed together in a fishbowl bubble wrapped in excitement were bound to connect . . . and we did.
But even being with me couldn’t stop the outbursts he’d promised wouldn’t happen from happening . . . the difference was he was making the label serious money with songs—my songs—so it was easier for them to turn a blind eye.
Plus, they had me to center Jett.
The same me who is now stuck keeping a promise and wondering why I had been so willing to do so for the last two years.
Look where that left us. He was constantly apologizing for the bullshit he pulled while loving every second he spent in the spotlight, and I was hurt and upset but fel
t like I could breathe for the first time in forever.
Funny how I didn’t realize I was suffocating until I walked away.
I shake from the memories and force myself to focus on the task at hand. “I think those lyrics fit with the beat,” I murmur.
“You have so much anger in yours though.”
I look over to him and furrow my brows in question. Does he not see the song was about him? How much he hurt me? “Yeah, well, maybe I have a right to be angry.”
“Not this again,” he mutters and reaches out to touch my leg but stops when I glare at his hand. “The song isn’t about you.”
“Every song I write is about me in some way or another,” I counter as exhaustion tugs at the corners of my mind. “And this song is about anger and hurt and everything in between.” There is no hiding my intention behind my words.
“Dylan. You know—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” I stand from my spot across from him. “I don’t want to hear it anymore. Mistake. No mistake. Neither takes away the shitty things Tara said to me or the trust you broke with me.”
“She didn’t mean them.”
“Don’t you dare defend her!” I grit out as her words swirl in my head and spill from my lips in a mocking tone. “Look at you, Dylan. Why would he choose you over me? Full figure went out years ago. Jett needs a woman he can wear on his arm. Someone he’s proud to be seen with. You’d rather hide in the shadows than be in the limelight. You were good enough when he was up and coming, but he needs someone to fit his status now.” I watch him the entire time I spit her words back into the space between us and mark every flinch he can’t hide.
“You know none of that’s true,” he says as he sets his guitar down and stands.
“No. I don’t. Easy for you to say now, but I sure as hell didn’t hear you stand up for me then, did you? You were too busy taking your condom off and cleaning up the evidence she wore on her thighs like a badge of honor. Just tell me, was she right? Did I not fit your status anymore and that was your way to try to break things off with me? Were you too chicken shit to say it to my face? How long had you two been fucking for her to think that? Because it sure as hell couldn’t have been the only time given all she said to me.” And then that’s when it really hits me. It couldn’t have been the first time they’d fucked. He said the photo at Starbucks was an old one. How old? She knew her way around my house as she ran around collecting her shit. She thought Jett had already chosen her over me.
“Don’t you still love me, Dylan?”
“I can love you all I want, Jett. That’s the hardest part. What I felt for you was real, and yes, I still feel it because I can’t just turn it off . . . but that doesn’t mean you’re winning me back. That doesn’t mean I want to be won back.”
