“Never.” It made his heart hurt to say it, but it had to be that way. There wasn’t a woman alive who deserved to make do with what was left of his heart. And someone like Dawn deserved a man who could give her the moon and stars. Devote every piece of himself to her happiness. He just didn’t have that much to give her. He’d already given it all to Sara.
“You’re an idiot,” Owen said.
“And you’re the relationship master?”
“I don’t deny that I suck at relationships,” Owen said, “but at least I’m trying.”
The limo pulled to a stop outside of the hotel. Kellen tossed his half-eaten sandwich into the seat and climbed out. He had tried. He’d opened himself up to Dawn faster than he’d let his guard down with anyone. Even Sara. Even Owen. But it just wouldn’t work. And if he fell in love with another woman and she left him—on purpose or through no fault of her own—then Kellen didn’t think he’d survive. How much of a heart did a man require to maintain a pulse? He was sure it was more than he had left to spare.
Chapter Twelve
Kellen pretended to watch I Love Lucy reruns while he hid in a hotel room with most of his band. Adam was sketching realistic-looking boobs as he used the hotel phone to schedule some debauchery with his woman in New Orleans. Gabe was tinkering with the mechanisms of some crazy invention that had Kellen cocking his head in confusion—what in the hell was that thing? Owen fiddled with his cellphone the entire evening to prove once and for all that he was a desperate loser. Jacob had never made it to the hotel. Kellen could only guess what he and Lindsey were up to back on the bus. Probably picking out baby names.
By the time they were sitting in the limo and headed back to the stadium, Kellen was ready to climb out of his skin. Why had he told Owen to dispose of Sara’s cuff? He had been fine without it when Dawn had been available to distract him, but now that he was alone with his thoughts, he found himself back in his ugly place. His very dark and oppressing ugly place. Should he call Dawn? He didn’t have her number. Should he drive back to Galveston after their show in New Orleans? No, he was sure she never wanted to see him again. And in his note to her, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested.
Except he was interested.
And he hated himself for the weakness.
“I’m going to punch you if you don’t get out of your funk,” Owen said. “I thought all your doom and gloom was caused by your lack of sex, but you got laid last night, so what gives?”
“You got laid last night?” Adam’s dark eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.
“Yeah, by an elegant, classy, redheaded babe,” Owen said.
“Were you there?” Adam asked.
Owen shook his head. “I Googled her.”
Kellen sighed in exasperation. “I’ve told you a million times that my funk, as you call it, has little to do with sex.”
“Then you must be doing it wrong,” Gabe said and ran a hand along the row of red-tipped hair spiked down the middle of his head.
“Probably,” Kellen said.
“If you need some inspiration, I could hook you up with some gadgets I… uh… bought,” Gabe said.
“He doesn’t need any gadgets.” Owen said. “He’s not seeing her again.”
If Kellen hadn’t been used to Owen spewing everyone’s business all the time, he probably would have hit him. He was in that bad a mood.
“Nothing wrong with getting your rocks off and splitting as soon as you can get away,” Adam said. “Before Madison, that was the only way I rolled.”
Kellen didn’t bother telling them that it wasn’t like that. He hadn’t actually wanted to leave Dawn. He’d felt that he’d had to, but his friends would probably take his denial as admittance. He’d rather not talk about last night or this morning and just forget about the whole thing. As if that were possible.
But he could pretend things were the same as they’d been for the past five years. They’d just think he was being moody.
At the stadium, several security guards escorted them inside. The backstage area was packed. The band was supposed to be entertaining a large group of VIPs. Luckily, most of them wanted to hang around with their lead singer, Jacob, who had no problem keeping two dozen women enthralled. The dudes in the crowd immediately surrounded either Adam—their guitar hero—or Gabe—the man behind the skins. Kellen was grateful that he went relatively unnoticed as he snuck past the crowd on his way to the dressing room. He had his eyes trained on the sign that said “Band members only. No guests.”
“Kellen!” someone yelled from the crowd behind him.
He froze. He knew that voice.
“Wait!”
Some kind of bizarre reverse psychology had him jogging toward the dressing room. Just before he stepped over the threshold into the safe zone, a hand caught his arm.
He took a deep breath and turned slowly to face her. Best get this over with.
He searched Dawn’s face for clues. What was she doing here? He backed into the dressing room. And guest or not, she followed him inside and closed the door behind her.
Dawn pressed a crumpled wad of paper into Kellen’s chest. Her eyes were alight with passion and fire.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“A Dear Dawn letter?” she spat at him. “We share the most amazing night of my life, and you leave me with nothing but a Dear Dawn letter?”
He was at a loss. Didn’t she understand that leaving that way had been the kindest thing he could have done for her?
“Take it back,” she demanded, shoving the paper harder into his chest. “Take it back, Kellen!”
He took the wad of paper from her hand, basking in the heat of her fury, blooming in her light. She was his fire. His Dawn.
“Did last night mean nothing to you?”
“It meant everything to me,” he said. And now that she was here, in all her radiant glory, he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny her. He couldn’t deny himself.
“Then why did you leave? Why, Kellen?” Her voice cracked, and she might as well have taken a hammer and chisel to his heart.
“Because,” he said breathlessly. “Because I’ll never have enough to give. I’ll never be enough. You deserve more than me, Dawn. Better than me. You deserve someone who can love you with everything he is, was, or will become. And I… I already gave that to someone else.”
“You don’t get to decide that, Kellen Jamison,” she said, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
He fought the urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her silent.
“Who I deserve is up to me, not you. I say you’re enough for me—you’re more than enough—so you are. If you don’t feel anything for me, that’s different; I’ll let you go if you want to go. But if you do feel something and the only reason you left is for my sake, I won’t stand for it. Do you understand? Walking away from me does not save me heartache, Kellen. It causes it.”
He looked away, wanting to believe they could be together or at least give it a Herculean effort, but he knew in his heart that he couldn’t make her happy. And more than anything, he wanted her to be happy. He never wanted to dampen her light or extinguish her fire. He couldn’t stomach the thought of doing that to her.
Her fingertips pressed over his pounding heart, and he wanted to push her hand away, wanted to turn his back on her, wanted to flee, but his fucking legs had forgotten how to move.
“Look me in the eye, Kellen, and tell me you don’t want to be with me, and I’ll leave.”