Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (17 page)

"This is so ridiculous." I throw my hands out at the screen.

"Jackson, Una's on the phone." Julia holds her bright purple phone out for me to take.

With a heavy sigh, I grab it.

"This is complete bullshit, Una," I answer.

"Jackson, tell me everything now," she demands in typical Una fashion.

"We invited others back to bed with us sometimes. That’s it," I bark.

"That's it? You think that's it, Jackson?" Una doesn't scream; she's perfected the scolding tone of calmness. Like when your parents would just say they were disappointed in you, instead of yelling.

"Jackson, she has pictures of you partying in a VIP area with two half-dressed girls, which I hope to Jesus Christ are of age, surrounded by liquor and drugs. So, what else do I need to know? Because I need to know it all right goddamn now if I'm going to help you."

"Okay, yeah we partied a bit, but that's it," I lie, the craving having taken its hold the moment my phone died in the car. "We invited other women into our bed, which was her idea, by the way, we drank and did some coke. It was nothing more than that," I continue the lie.

Julia snorts from behind me. Twisting around, my glare silences her.

Una sighs, heavily. "Jackson, I pray to God she doesn't have anything else, but something tells me she isn't done. What does she want?"

"Me."

"You? That's it?"

"No. Now she wants revenge, too."

"For what?" Una's voice hitches.

"For dumping her and rejecting her attempts to get back together. There may also have been one occasion where I publicly embarrassed her."

A thump and then three more come from the other end of the phone.

"Una?"

"You're killing me, Jackson. We'll talk later." She hangs up.

I hand Julia her phone and she holds up her iPad for me to look. The online community is already running rampant with the story and picture. Women are coming out of the woodwork claiming to be one of the many. Photoshopped images of me with another woman popping up.

"Christ!" I groan and stride to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Leaning on the counter, my eyes land on the small, black leather bag. Licking my lips, I dig into my stash and line up a couple rails.

Satisfied with the numbness, I climb in the shower and let the hot water slide over my skin.

Fucking Kristy. What the fuck am I going to do? What if Liza sees this shit?

I raise my head and narrow my eyes on the white tile. I'm not sticking around this hotel all day.

Liza

"Sid, slow down, I can't understand what you're—”

"It's all over the place, Liza. Kristy, Jackson's ex, is saying they split because of him cheating and partying," Sid rushes out.

"But…wait, so why would she still be trying to impress him at the club? That doesn't make sense." Slipping off the bleacher seats to get away from the eavesdroppers around me, I point to my bag. Kel nods, understanding it means to keep an eye on it.

"I don't know," Sid sighs. "Maybe she's crazy, but that picture wasn't. Do you want me to send it?" A mischievous tone enters her voice. "It's kind of hot."

I walk the dirt path toward the parking area.

"No, thanks," I say, hoping she doesn't hear the catch in my voice.

Hornets buzz around in my stomach.
What do you expect from a rock star surrounded by groupies?

"Hey, you okay?"

"Mmhmm. I'm fine," I hastily mutter.

"Liza, I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," I say, the words coming out calmer than I feel inside.

"I've told you before, you can't believe everything online. Or TV, for that matter. And from what you told me about this girl, she really may be crazy. I'm sure the longevity of starvation to her body has eaten away at her brain."

The tension breaks and I snort. Soon, we're both laughing.

"I swear, I miss you more every time you leave after visiting," I say between catching breaths.

"Ditto that, babe," she agrees. "So, do you think your caseworker will be able to help with Sean?"

"I'm not sure. She isn't his caseworker, so it's not as easy as her handling paperwork." Shrugging, I stop a few feet from the end of the path and start walking back to the benches. "His grandmother already completed a guardianship form, but they still have to review my living arrangements and situation."

Looking up from the dirt, I realize instead of going back to the benches, I'd turned and walked back to the lot.
Great, I'm pacing.
Pacing being a nervous habit of mine, this only means my stress levels have hit maximum.

"We should just move in together," Sid states flippantly.

"Um, I'm not moving back to Pennsylvania, and you have a job and life there. I don't see how that's going to work." I glance out to the field, watching the boys run and kick the soccer ball. Guilt sets in. "Listen, I need to get back to Lucas' game."

"Shit, that’s right. Sorry. We're still talking later tonight?"

"Yeah, we are."

A tingling sensation makes me look to the left. A figure approaches in the distance. I can't tear my eyes away.

"Okay, call me when you're settled in tonight. We’ll get things figured out then. At least…as far as we can, alright?"

I nod, even though she can't see me.

"Liza?" Sid presses.

"Huh?" I return, distracted.

"Are you okay?" she asks, worry rushing the question.

Opening my mouth, I prepare to reassure her, but all the breath leaves my body. Heat flushes my chest and neck, climbing into my cheeks. I blink twice and swallow my response.

"Eliza, what the hell is going on?"

The dark beanie and aviator sunglasses don't hide the half-grin on his lips.

"I'll call the police in three…two…"

"I'm fine," I blurt. "But I've gotta go."

"What's going on?"

At his arrival, I tilt my head back and look at him. His driver, large enough to be security, stops a couple feet away.

"Jackson?"

"Jackson?" Sid echoes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh shit, this is about to get good," Sid says, drawing out the last word. "I want details. Dirty, hot, ink filled pen details, you hear me!" she whispers.

Shaking my head, I pull the phone away and hit end.

"What are you—?"

"My afternoon's free. I'm here to watch some soccer." With a broad grin and a shrug, he steps around me, walking toward the bench seats.

I reach out and grab his arm. He stops, turning halfway back toward me.

"If you think the sunglasses and hat will hide you…" I shake my head, starting to slide my hand away.

His long, inked fingers slip over my hand, stopping my retreat.

"I've been doing this for a while. It'll be fine."

Warmth surrounds my hand as he picks it up from his arm, transferring it into his. Lacing our fingers, he pulls me back to the bleachers.

I scan the crowd of game watchers, finding only a couple people lingering on Jackson a bit longer than necessary. I swallow down the riot of bees wanting an escape from my stomach. Instead of the swarm of fans I expect, they turn back to the kid's game.

Jackson stops next to Kel. His eyes, amused and watchful, stay riveted on Jackson. With a quick nod, Jackson steps one bleacher up, releases my hand, and sits down.

Hesitantly, I lick the nervous dryness on my lips and move to retake my seat by Kel. Large hands grip my hips, twisting and situating me so I’m sitting between Jackson's long, sprawled out legs. When he attempts to pull me back against him, I resist.

Too much, too fast. Too close and I will want to climb up his body.

A small shake of my head clears the naughty thoughts and I focus on the game.

"Where are the boys?" Jackson asks, the fingers of his right-hand twirling in my hair.

"Sean just came out, so he's on the bench," Kel answers, pointing out his position. "Lucas is the left forward."

I change my focus from Sean to Lucas. He’s standing on the side closest to us, his body tense and ready for the game to start. He snaps into action the moment the ball is in play.

My attention is pulled away from the game when I feel Jackson’s closeness. His arms come to rest on his knees, which are on either side of me, at shoulder level. My body tingles and I fight a shiver when he leans against my back. His right thumb grazes my bicep, causing goose bumps to form on my skin.

"You're going to have to help me out." He purposely draws lazy circles with his thumb. "I'm not familiar with soccer."

"Sure," Kel answers, as if we don't have a famous rock star sitting behind us. Like said rock star isn't sending my body into a riot of tingles and pulsing need.

"Hey." His voice is low and close enough to warm my ear.

"Yeah?" My voice cracks.

Jackson sweeps my hair off my neck and over my left shoulder. The brush of his fingertips causes my muscles to tense.

"Stop worrying," he whispers.

"‘Kay." My response is unnaturally high pitched.

He chuckles against my back.

"No one gives a shit about who I am, Liza. It's all good." He buries his face into my neck.

My body melts and I close my eyes, inhaling Jackson.

Cheers from the crowd pull me from the lusty cocoon he so easily wraps around me.

Sitting straighter, I focus on the field.

"What did I miss?"

"Our goalie had a pretty awesome save." Kel's answer is laced with amusement.

Turning my head, I narrow my eyes on him. He ignores me, keeping his attention on the field.

"Excuse me?" someone asks from Kel's side of the benches.

Assuming it's someone being polite about walking in front of another, I watch Lucas.

Lucas gets his feet on the ball, maneuvering toward their opponent’s net. I stand, hands clasped, waiting for the kick. Instead, Lucas passes the ball to the striker and she puts it in the net.

My shout is accompanied by the rest of the crowd on our bleachers. Kel stands, clapping, and I hop on my toes. The movement causes my balance to waiver. Jackson's hands grip my hips, steadying me. Turning at the touch, I grin down at him before looking back to the field.

My baby just assisted with a goal!

"Nice teamwork!" Kel yells over the crowd.

Lucas looks into the stands and smiles.

"Um, excuse me?" This time it's louder, closer.

Looking to my left, two young girls stand, biting on their lips with curiosity in their eyes—which are dead set on Jackson.

"What?" Kel asks, retaking his seat.

They look around Kel.

"Are you Jackson Shaw?" Hope fills the girl's question, matching the excitement in her eyes.

"Yeah," he answers, nonchalant.

I sink back down to my seat and his hands slide up my sides. Ignoring the way my body responds to his touch, my wide eyes watch his reaction to being found out.

"Ohmygod!" she yells. "Isoknewitwasyou. Oh. My. God. You're Jackson Shaw." Her grin is wide and she grips her friend’s arm tightly.

The other girl stands with her mouth open. For a moment, I'm sure she'll cry.

"It's nice to meet you." He smiles, giving them a quick nod.

"Will you sign my shirt, please?" she begs, digging in a bag and pulling out a pen.

"Sure." He shrugs.

Removing his hands from my sides, he takes the pen and leans over so he can reach where she stands.

The girl blurts something I can't make out before pulling her shirt over her head and setting it on the bench.

"This is a kid's game," one parent scolds.

"Calm down, I'm wearing a sports bra. It's just like a tank top," she snottily replies.

I wrinkle my nose at her attitude and realize my brother's eyes are fixated on the half-naked girl.