Read It's Just Sext (The Right Kind of Wrong) Online
Authors: Felice Fox
It's Just Sext (The Right Kind of Wrong) (6 page)
How could Emily have moved their son out here? Selfish it was, but she is his mother, and the judge said she could go. Nic fought hard, but he knew he’d soon follow. Tough as the move might be on him, he wouldn’t be kept from his boy. And he didn’t hate Emily, after all. They had both lost their way—she had just found hers again sooner, outside of their marriage.
But
so what? Love is love, right?
His family wouldn't be as forgiving. Best she and Jackson weren’t around Nashville for a while.
A lot of people were saying things—shameful things he didn’t want the boy to hear. It was Jackson that needed protecting most. Crazy thing was, they were talking about Nic and that damn book. Nobody even knew about Emily; all the whispers were about him and some affair he never had with a woman he didn't want to admit he remembered. That book had laid him low, and got him kicked out of his own family band. Still, it was a good cover for Emily, and Nic had to believe he would find his way back into Dad’s good graces somehow.
He had run Emmett Taylor's tirade over in his mind a thousand times.
“Now my boy's a philanderin' phony and I'm either the fool who didn't see it, or the co-conspirator, lying to everyone but Jesus. I'm a weak man. Couldn't control my own damn son,” he had hollered, the long white cowlick of his perfectly coiffed hair shaking loose over his forehead. Nic smarted. He had never thought of himself as being controlled and didn’t like the sound of it out loud either.
“There’s one option you’re forgetting,” Nic retorted. “That your ‘own damn son’ is telling you the truth. Some fan wrote a story about
me, so what? Ain’t nothing in there that’s true. Not one damn word.”
Nic paced the room as his father collapsed in his wingback chair by the fire. The lengthy silence had actually given him hope, but when Emmett spoke again, it was to shut him out completely.
“You got to go, Nic. I cain't see as how you're gonna fix this. These people think our family in't what it appears to be. I cultivated the Taylor image, nurtured it for decades—wholesome, honest folk, we are—and you come and mow it down with your selfish ways. Well, I won't let you take down my legacy. You’re on your own now. I got to leave something for your brothers and your sister. You failed me; you failed Emily and your son. You failed us all.” Brutal that was. Nic couldn't do much but leave at that point. His mother had chased him out to the moon-swept porch of the elegant old Tennessee farmhouse, begging him to make good, but it was no use. There was no reaching the man, and Nic had known it.
People came to see The Taylors to connect to a simpler time, when folks were kind to each other, neighborliness meant something, and a man was as good as his word. Nic had been their golden boy since he was old enough to wrap his fingers around a fret board. The fans were loyal, and according to his dad, Nic had squandered their affections and his reputation.
Nic shook his head at the memory.
For most of his life, he had been a stranger to real sorrow, though he sang about it plenty. Lately, he had discovered a kinship of sorts with long gone lyricists who set their pain to music, and he’d play and sing their melodies until he felt a kind of release. Anyhow, his type of personality just didn’t let him stay sorrowful long. He couldn’t explain it much—he just had a grateful heart and it led him around most of the time, not letting him dwell in sadness.
Standing before the judge at their custody hearing, the lyrics to Hazel Dickens
’
Hills of Home
had come to his mind unbidden, but true. He knew then he wouldn’t just let Emily scatter his boy off to California and leave him behind to be a phantom father. Tour dates had kept him away enough through the years, and this would make it worse.
There wasn’t much bluegrass out here in California, and the fans were always grateful when The Taylors came. He wouldn’t have it as easy as he did in Nashville, but Nic would make his way. He’d be all right.
Maybe he’d make a name for himself out here, out from under Dad’s shadow. A friendly little coffee house of his own with a small stage…give his boy a place to jam…if he doesn’t turn into a surf punk, that is.
Nic perused the rental listings on Craigslist. Then again, maybe he'd just stay parked by the beach in his tour bus for a while longer. Hey, it was good enough for Matt McConaughey and he’s from Texas. Why not Nic Taylor from Tennessee?
If you enjoyed this excerpt and would like to keep reading,
click here to purchase at Amazon
.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Felice attributes her love of romance novels to an early, feverish bout with The Kissing Disease. TAKE ME FOR LONGING, a current Amazon bestseller, was her fiction debut. Her latest release, IT’S JUST SEXT, hit #1 on Amazon's Bestselling Sex Books list in less than three weeks.
Felice began writing professionally in 2001 and is a bestselling author in the non-fiction market. Her work appears in online learning courses and many popular retail websites. She lives, loves and occasionally sends out naughty little text messages from somewhere in Southern California.
For a complete listing of books, as well as excerpts, contests, and to connect with Felice:
New Releases: