Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) (28 page)

Beyond the windshield, the fields of green begin to blur
into a long, rippling ribbon. The festival grounds shrink in our rearview
mirror, and just like that, Hawk and Dove has drawn to a close. But my arm is still
wrapped firmly around Ellie’s shoulders.

It’s hard to imagine that I didn’t dream her up—but here she
is, from now on. Wherever this next leg of the journey takes us, we’ll be there
together.

Chapter Twenty Three

“Are we there yet?” Kenny whines, sprawled out across a
cushy armchair.

I roll my eyes from the front of the bus. Who knew that rock
musicians could be such babies?

“We’re getting there Kenny. Keep on being a brave little
soldier,” I tease, earning a chuckle from Trent and the rest of the guys.

We’ve been on the road for the better part of the day by
this point, killing time before heading up the East Coast to New York City. The
full reality of my decision to come along for this summer-long joyride has yet
to kick in. Right now, I’m riding a tidal wave of adrenaline and possibility.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m charging full speed ahead toward
my wildest dreams.

It’s a feeling I could definitely get used to.

“Take the next exit,” I instruct the bus driver, a middle aged
man named Chuck with deep, rutted wrinkles and a big, goofy smile. We’ve bonded
quite a bit today, he and I, as I’ve been in charge of navigation. For lack of
a better idea, the guys turned the day over to me. And I have some pretty great
accommodations in mind for us this evening.

“You got it, sweetheart,” says Chuck, flipping on his turn
signal.

Thick trees swallow up the bus on either side as we make our
way further off the beaten path. I have a feeling that this is not exactly the
established way to spend the eve of one’s first national tour, but I can’t
think of a better way to bookmark this crazy week and get ready to spring off
into a whole new chapter of my life. And the novelty will be good for the guys,
too. They could use a little humbling once in a while.

“Are you getting to tell us what you’ve got up your sleeve,
Jackson?” Trent asks, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

“This should all look pretty familiar to you,” I say,
twisting around to face him.

Trent peers through the windshield at the thickening
foliage, the small town landmarks coming into view as we make our way along.
Comprehension finally begins to dawn on that ruggedly handsome face of his.

“Well shit,” he says, “I must have been pretty distracted
the last time. I didn’t even recognize the route!”

“
You
know where the hell we’re going?” Rodney asks.

“Sure,” Trent says, “Welcome to Barton, gentleman. The
little town that raised our very own Eleanor.”

“Barton?” Rodger says, chewing on the name of my hometown,
“Never heard of the place.”

“No one has,” I tell them, “But I figured we could swing by
my house, crash for the night, be normal people for a minute before setting off
on our whirlwind adventure. You guys need a minute to catch your breath too—now
that you’re free agents, you’ll need clear heads to put your band back on the
right track. So, what do you say? A night of R&R sound good to you?”

“Do you think that there’s a home cooked meal in our
future?” asks Kenny excitedly.

“I think we can probably count on it,” I smile, “Though
don’t be surprised if it’s plant-based and comprised of super foods, knowing my
mom.”

“Plant-based? Super foods?” Rodney says quizzically, “Are
you speaking English?”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him with a laugh, “I promise it’ll be
great.”

“Hell, I’d be down for something low key after this week,”
Rodger says, “We’re all of us small town boys ourselves, you know. Different
small towns, of course, but all the same. It’ll be like home for us, too.”

“Super,” I say, turning back to the road.

“You’ve got quite the imagination, don’t you?” Trent says,
laying a hand on the small of my back. I wink at him mischievously, letting him
know without words that he hasn’t seen anything yet. I have a feeling that my
presence on the tour might turn a few conventions on their heads, but it’ll be
good for the guys to have a little feminine energy around. At least, that’s
what I keep telling myself. So far, it doesn’t seem like anyone’s annoyed by my
presence, anyway.

Especially since they're used to dealing with Kelly.

The tour bus chugs along through the winding roads that lead
home. As we start to pull onto familiar streets, I start to feel giddy.
Passersby stop and stare at the enormous vehicle making its way through our
sleepy town. I’m sure nothing like this has ever quite been seen in Barton
before.

I wonder, with a little flip of my stomach, whether the
people I’ve known all my life have been following my rock star escapades from
afar? To everyone here, I’m still half of Ellie & Mitch, after all.

Mitch was never a favorite in Barton, but I hope that my
coming here with the guys doesn’t hurt his feelings any, as if he'd even find
out about it.

I haven’t heard a word from Mitch since he left the
festival. I’ve just assumed that he headed back up to Boston again, to wait for
another school year to start. He never felt at home in Barton the way I used to
as a kid.

A sudden stab of sympathy for my estranged friend hits me in
the gut. He acted atrociously at Hawk and Dove, but I can’t help but feel a
little responsible for his behavior. I knew that he had feelings for me, and I
certainly didn’t let him down easy.

Maybe there’s a reconciliation somewhere in our future, but
I’d call that a long shot. I think that Mitch was always destined to go his own
way—open some tiny music venue in a small city and spend his life perfecting
his technique on the dulcimer, or something. I do hope that he can find some
kind of happiness without me, though.

As ugly as things turned between us, Mitch was one of the
first people who really thought I was any good at writing songs. I owe him a
lot for that scrap of recognition.

“There it is,” I say proudly, all thoughts of Mitch fleeing
my mind as my home comes into view.

“Cute,” Kenny says.

“Cute?!” Rodney scoffs.

“Pull over here, Chuck,” I tell the driver. He promptly
swings the massive tour bus over to the side of the road, just in front of my
drive way.

“Why do I get the feeling we look a tad out of place here?”
Trent says.

“Let me go in first,” I say, “This might be a bit of a shock
for good old mom.”

“I’d say,” Rodger laughs.

The bus doors swing open, and I leap out, all but running to
my front door. The sight of our shabby old Victorian nearly brings a tear to my
eye. Hopefully, the place will be rid of unwanted pests this time around.

I have a feeling that my dad’s money grubbing ass won’t be
coming around here any time soon after Trent’s smack down. The further out of
my life that man stays, the better off we’ll all be. I got over the daydream of
us ever coming together as a family again many years ago. As far as I’m
concerned, Kate and Mom round out my perfect family.

We’re all each other needs.

I take the front porch steps two at a time and swing open
the front door. Immediately, the smell of ginger tea with honey, mixing with a hint
of pine wood, washes over me. It’s the unmatchable scent of home, and it warms
me through and through.

“Mom!” I cry, hurrying into the kitchen.

“Ellie?” I hear her say in astonishment. I round the corner
and see her perched at the kitchen island with a big steaming mug in her hands.

I run to her, throwing my arms around her neck. “I didn’t
know when we’d see you again after...Ellie, I’m so sorry. I should have kicked
him out the minute he got here. I didn’t know that you’d be coming back, or I
never—”

“It’s OK Mom,” I say, mumbling into her long white blonde
hair, “It’s over. I think we’re rid of him.”

“After all these years,” she sighs, “I just can’t say no to
that man. I know you must think I’m weak for not throwing him to the curb—”

“Weak is the last thing I’d ever call you,” I say adamantly,
“You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s a rat, is all.”

“I’m afraid that’s right,” she says, laying her hand on my
cheek. “But Ellie...what are you doing here? I’m happy to see you, but...Good
god, my dear, what is going on in that whirlwind life of yours?”

 “You haven’t been following the tabloids?” I laugh.

“I thought I’d wait and get the real story from you,” she
says.

“Is Kate here?” I ask.

“She is,” I hear my sister’s sleepy voice from behind me. I
whirl around and see her enter the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. I
fly at her, wrapping her up in a bear hug. She squeezes me back, strong as
ever.

“You’re back,” she says, “I’m so glad you’re back. We were
so worried.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep you guys in the loop,” I tell them,
“As soon as we got to the festival, everything started happening so fast.”

“It’s OK,” Mom says, easing me down into a seat at the
kitchen table. “It’s impossible to live your life and be worried about
reporting back.”

“But for the love of god,” Kate says, as she and Mom sit
down at the table with me, “What the hell has been going on with you?”

“You want the cliff notes?” I ask.

“Go for it,” Mom urges.

“OK,” I begin, “This is all going to sound insane, just so
you know.”

“I delivered twins over a toilet last night,” Kate drawls,
“I’m OK with insane.”

“Well,” I say, “When Mitch and I got down to Hawk and Dove,
we found out that we had a space reserved for us in the talent campsite. Only,
as we went to set up our stuff, we found Trent Parker trying to pitch a tent
right in our spot.”

“Mitch must have thrown quite the little temper tantrum,”
Mom says.

“You’ve got that right,” I laugh, “But I ran into Trent one
on one the next morning, and he was perfectly...wonderful. Not anything like the
character he puts on for the fans. Mitch and I had our first show, and Trent
came out and everything...but it turned out that the gossip blogs had taken
some of my words out of context and assumed that Mitch and I were an item. He
got all excited and tried to act on his little crush, then got all upset when I
rebuked him. We had a pretty nasty fight. Trent was there to step in, but...It
got ugly.

“How ugly?” Kate asks,

“Ugly enough,” I say, remembering the look in Mitch’s eyes
when he raised his hand to me. “But after that, Trent and I started getting
close. And closer...”

“You don’t need to go into the details on that one,” my mom
winks.

“Thanks,” I blush, “But it eventually got out to all the
media, and that got under Mitch’s skin enough that he up and left. I was
devastated, obviously, and then there was this horrible manager of Trent’s that
kept trying to shake me off...Everything came to a head, and that’s when I came
back here.”

“You poor thing,” Kate says, taking my hand, “The last thing
you probably needed was to see Dad.”

“Yeah,” I say, “But thank god Trent came and brought me
back. He was...amazing. The last night of the festival, he stepped in and
played a set with me, and even brought me on stage with his band. It was
incredible.”

“How did you guys leave it?” Mom asks, “I mean, you’re back
here now...”

“I got scared,” I admit, “About diving into this rock star
world he’s living in. But he asked me to come on tour with his band this summer
and, well...I couldn’t refuse. I know it’s risky, and might be a huge mistake,
but I had to take the risk. I have to see where this leads.”

“You’re a brave girl,” Mom says, smiling, “But...shouldn’t
you be off with them right now, then?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” I say, “The tour kicks off in New
York in a day or so...And the band needs somewhere to hang out in the
meantime...”

“What are you suggesting?” Kate asks.

“Why don’t you guys take a took out the front windows,” I
tell them.

Mom and Kate spring up from the table and rush to the front
of the house. I hear their twin gasps as they see the tour bus idling on the
curb.

“Here?!” My mom cries excitedly.

“We’re going to have a rock star sleepover?!” Kate exclaims.

“Is that OK?” I ask, “I realize it’s a bit late to be
seeking permission...”

“Are you kidding?” Mom says, “This will be like living in
New York all over again! I used to hang out with musicians all the time, before
I got all domesticated.”

“Wait until I tell the girls at work about this,” Kate
breathes, “They’re going to turn bright green!”

“And here I thought I’d have to convince you,” I laugh,
meeting them at the front door.

“We’re no squares, Missy,” my mom says, brushing her hair
out of her face, “Bring them in! I should make...something. What do rock stars
eat?”

“Whiskey and the adoration of fans?” I suggest.

“I’ll figure something out,” Mom says, rushing back into the
kitchen.

Who would have thought, when we first moved into this place,
that we’d one day be running a B&B for rowdy rock star types? I guess you
never can tell what’s going to happen in this crazy thing we call life.

“I need to change...” Kate says, rushing up to her room,
“Would fishnets be trying too hard?”