Page 26 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter Twenty-Four

O z resisted the urge to step onto the patio with Maria. What the hell was going on that would cause her to blow him off like this? And he still didn’t know who the hell Tim was.

He should go downstairs. Riley shouldn’t be left alone for very long. Besides, Maria would go down eventually, and then she’d tell him what that conversation was all about.

It was probably nothing.

It hadn’t looked like nothing. In fact, based purely on her dilated eyes and the twist of her lips, he’d say it looked like a whole lot of…something.

Luckily, the conversation didn’t last long, which was good because. Oz had already taken two strides toward the sliding glass door when she opened it and stepped back into the bedroom.

“Who was that?” he demanded, wincing at his own ridiculous tone. He had no right to make demands of her. They hadn’t had any sort of conversation about their relationship. She had an entire life in Washington that he knew nothing about.

She didn’t respond.

“It was about your ex, wasn’t it?” he added.

She dropped her gaze to her phone. “I have to go home.”

“Home?”

“Washington,” she clarified.

“Washington,” he echoed. It did have to do with her ex. “Why?”

“I…” She shook her head without meeting his gaze. “To sort some things out. I’m so sorry I have to miss tonight’s concert.”

“You told him you had commitments until next weekend.”

“Tim?” she asked blankly, her brows furrowed.

“Your ex. When he called on Saturday. You told him you couldn’t go home. Now some guy named Tim calls, and you’re on the first flight out of town. The two conversations are obviously connected.”

“Yes. No. I’m not sure.” She rubbed at her forehead while striding over to the closet.

“When will you be back?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What are you going to do?” Why was he pushing so damn hard? When had Maria given him any reason to act like the fool he was currently portraying?

“Oz, I really don’t want to get into it right now. We both have plenty to worry about without adding this burden.”

“It’s not a burden. I just want you to talk to me.”

“I know you do.” She sounded sad. “But I need to deal with this, and you need to focus on your career. Just kick butt at that concert tonight, okay?”

It was a clear dismissal. Made crystal when she lifted her suitcase out of the closet and began folding clothes into it.

Shit. She was really leaving. And she hadn’t given him a return date.

What the hell did that mean?

He couldn’t ask her sister, he realized a short time later, because Holly and Sam and Maria and Riley all left together to go to the airport.

Maria didn’t even say goodbye, not to him personally anyway, before she left.

“What’s wrong, Oz?” Lacey asked, dropping down next to him on the couch in the dressing room at the venue in Tulsa. “You seem tense.”

Why wasn’t she bothered that Maria wasn’t with them tonight?

“Did she tell you where she was going?” he asked.

“Who? Maria? She just said she had to deal with some family business.” Lacey canted her head and peered at him. “What are you worried about? That she’ll go back to her ex?”

Well, hell, that hadn’t even occurred to him.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much sense it made.

He was the guitarist for a lowly rock band that hadn’t yet made it big enough to be remotely in the same financial bracket as Maria’s ex. Besides this gig, he had three jobs and still couldn’t make ends meet.

He definitely didn’t have his shit together, and what little he’d gathered from bits and pieces Maria and Holly had let drop in conversation, Maria’s ex had had his shit together practically since birth.

She’d been attracted to that at one time. And maybe she’d thought that wasn’t really what she wanted, but how could she not? Hell, Oz wished he were more put together. He knew damn well he wasn’t the same caliber of catch as Vic Bernard.

These thoughts draped over his shoulders, whispered in his head as they played their set.

It showed. He was listless during “Why Can’t We Be,” and when Parker suggested they perform Panic Station’s “If Only” as their encore, Oz refused. No more love songs for him. Hell, he was ready to scrap “Desire,” despite what Travis had said about the song.

Christ, he was letting the woman fuck with his performance, and he didn’t even have a reason to do so. Only his gut. And his gut insisted something was wrong.

He carried this mantel all the way to the airport on Tuesday morning, all the way back to LA. On Thursday, they were driving out to Phoenix for the show on Friday, then up to Las Vegas for the Saturday concert.

Would Maria return by then?

Or was she about to ghost him? Hell, had she already? He hadn’t heard a word since she left the lodge Monday morning.

When he arrived at Sam and Holly’s house after that long-ass flight from Oklahoma, the kids and his mom were genuinely happy to see him. It should have been enough.

And then Izzie said, “Where’s Riley?” and he had no idea how to respond, other than, “In Washington.”

“In Washington?” A frown marred his mother’s forehead. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and dropped onto the couch like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Mom sat down next to him. “What happened, mijo ?”

The shitty part was, most of what happened while he’d been away was great. The band’s sudden fame. The two sold-out concerts in Tulsa. The wedding. The time he spent growing closer with Maria.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “One minute, everything was fine, the next…she was gone.”

Mom patted his leg. “Have you talked to her?”

“I tried. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Sit here and mope, obviously . He took a pull from his beer. “I don’t know.”

“Let me rephrase that. What should you do?”

He should reach out. He should try to convince Maria to open up to him. He should… “Do you think it’s too forward if I drive up there to talk to her? What if something really is wrong? What if I can help her?”

Mom smiled. “I think you’ve decided.”

Christ. He had, hadn’t he?

Turned out, his ancient Civic hatchback could have made it to Missouri. Oz based this on the fact that he drove to a small town an hour east of Seattle without his car breaking down.

Which was completely beside the point. He slowly cruised through downtown Roma—all two blocks of it—with no idea what to do next.

Should he text Maria and tell her he was in town? Was that really the best way to say, “Hey, I care about you so much that I drove all the way up the coast and I really want to talk?” Because honestly, he had nothing else.

“Maria, I love you, and I really want to figure out a way to make us work” seemed potentially premature, especially given he was at least a little afraid she’d come back to reunite with her ex-husband.

Which meant texting was definitely off the table. If this thing between them was ending, he wanted it to happen face-to-face. Not on his phone via a handful of sentences with poor punctuation.

He parked the car to give himself a minute to think up some sort of plan. He glanced out the windshield—he’d pulled up in front of a bridal shop.

Hadn’t Maria mentioned that her bridesmaid’s dress had come from a bridal shop in Roma? Surely, there weren’t two of them in a town this small.

An idea forming, Oz climbed out of his car and headed toward the shop. The exterior was two stories tall and looked as if it had been around since the Old West days. The interior painted a very different picture.

Plush carpet. Shiny banister on the staircase leading up to the second level, where, according to a sign written in looping calligraphy, the suits were located. Mannequins dressed in high-end wedding attire were lined up in the windows overlooking the street.

The dressing area featured a fancy seating area, complete with a massive, crystal chandelier giving off a soft, no doubt complementary light. Shawn Mendes crooned at a low volume from hidden speakers.

“Well, hello there.”

Oz watched a tall person with a square jaw and broad shoulders and an Adam’s apple teeter toward him in pink over-the-knee boots with a stacked heel.

The person wore a clingy black sweater dress and chunky gold jewelry Oz had a feeling was real.

A platinum blonde wig with fringe bangs completed the stylish and admittedly attractive look.

“Er, do you work here?” he asked.

The dressed-to-the-nines person fluttered bedazzled lashes.

“Sweetie pie, I own this joint.” They eyed Oz, from his messy hair to the studs in his ears, touching on the silver hoop in his lip, down to the hoodie that covered most, but not all, of his tattoos.

“And you look like someone who would never, ever live in this tiny slice of conservativeness, although, hmm…turn around, would you?”

“Pardon?”

The owner made a circular motion with their finger.

“I’m not here to buy anything, I just wanted to ask?—”

“Humor me, baby doll, and I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

Oz turned a full circle. Didn’t even hesitate.

“I thought so,” the shop owner said, nodding sagely. “That ass is hard to deny. You’re one of the rocker hotties who’s been hanging out with my girls.”

“Your girls? You mean Holly and Maria? You know Maria?”

The shop owner extended their arm, cocking their wrist like they wanted Oz to kiss the back of their hand. He awkwardly shook it instead.

“I’m Roxanne, by the way.”

Oz blew out a breath. “Ah, so a woman.”

“That is how I identify, yes. And you are…? Other than the owner of the hottest ass on Insta, I mean.”

Oz cupped the back of his neck. While he was glad for the publicity for the band, being recognized for his ass was definitely going to take some getting used to. “I’m Oz. I’m?—”

“The one who has the locals all a titter,” Roxanne finished for him.

“Sweet Holly, who is a celebrity with roots here, just got married to the love of her life, and all anyone around here can gossip about is her older sister and the hot rocker she hung with at the wedding.” Roxanne tsked and shook her head.

Well, hell. Maybe coming here really was the bad idea he’d half expected it was in the first place. Whether he and Maria were meant to be, the last thing he wanted was to layer on the gossip she was already suffering.

He tugged the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his wrist. Roxanne tracked the motion.

“Sugar cookie, don’t worry. You’re in a safe zone while you’re in my shop. I can’t make any promises once you step out onto that sidewalk, but for right now, you can relax. Now, what sort of information are you looking for? I do hope it’s something I can provide.”

Hell, Roxanne already knew enough about the situation… “I’m looking for Maria, actually. I-I don’t know where she lives.”

Where her ex lived, actually. He was more certain than he wanted to be that she was there at the moment. If not staying there—one could hope—she was probably at the house, dealing with whatever “family business” had pulled her away without so much as a reasonable explanation.

Roxanne crossed her arms. “I’m confused. I thought you and Maria were…” She waggled her finger; Oz had no idea what that little signal was supposed to mean, but he understood her half sentence.

“We were. And then she dropped everything and rushed home. I just want to talk to her, make sure…”

“She isn’t going back to what’s easy?”

He swallowed. “Um, yeah. Basically.”

Roxanne nodded like she’d been through exactly the same scenario. “It’s very difficult not to run back at the first sign of trouble.”

“But that’s the thing. There wasn’t any trouble. Everything was great. I have no idea what happened. She got a call from some guy named Tim and?—”

“Tim?” Roxanne’s eyes widened. “Oh, he’s magnificent. So beautiful. And fills out a suit in a way that should be illegal.” She rolled her eyes dramatically while pressing the back of her fingers to her forehead.

So did this mean Tim was gay? Because as much as Oz had been worried Maria was running back to her ex-husband, he was also nervous about how Tim fit into her life. And yeah, he may have wondered if Tim wasn’t some other past love interest.

Clearly, Oz had confidence issues.

“So, anyway,” he said. “I was hoping you’d give me Maria’s, uh, ex’s address, so I can go see if she’s there.”

Roxanne shook her head before swiveling on her boots and strutting over to a sleek wooden desk with muted gold trim.

“If I didn’t have an appointment coming in in twenty minutes, I would drive you there myself if only to have a front row seat at the fireworks.

” She handed him a piece of paper with an address scrawled across it.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to read about it in the scandal mags along with everyone else. ” She pouted.

“I have no intention of causing a scene,” Oz defended himself.

“You aren’t going over there to win back your girl?”

“I just want to talk to her,” he insisted.

Roxanne’s face fell. Was she disappointed in his answer? “Well, I suppose I should wish you luck. Maria is a lovely woman, and, if your band’s Instagram feed is any indication, she’s become even more so since she started hanging out with you.”

“Thanks.” Oz snatched the paper from Roxanne’s talons.

And then he bolted out the door.

To go win back his woman.