Built to Fall: A Rock Star Romance

“CLAIRE!”

Marta tugged at my arm. “Shut up, Dom. Stop yelling.”

Panic stabbed at my gut with a dull blade. All the lights were off in the condo. The only noises were Marta’s shoes squeaking on the floor as she dragged her heels, attempting to slow me down. I was a bull, and the stark absence of Claire Fontana was my red flag. I charged through the sprawling space into our bedroom.

Empty.

“Where is she?”

“I’ll check the other rooms. Iris said she came back here so she’s somewhere.” Marta headed toward her room while I went in the opposite direction.

The door to one of the guestrooms was closed. Instinct told me Claire was in there and if I went barreling in like I had the urge to, I’d make everything worse.

Carefully opening the door, the hall light illuminated a sliver of the dark room and the top of Claire’s head peeking out from the covers. Needing to see her more than I needed to take another breath, I kneeled beside the bed, finding my sleeping girl.

Her nose was still red, and mascara tracked down her cheeks from crying. I almost reached out to touch her, to stroke her cheek until she opened her eyes, but I didn’t. What the fuck would I even say?

That I couldn’t stand spending one night away from her, especially after she said she’d stay if I asked, so I took a chance and showed up at the bar?

That seeing that kid, that asshole touching her, sent me into a blind rage?

And then, when I realized she’d left, my heart hammered in my chest so hard from fear, I’d considered the very real possibility I’d been on the edge of stroking out?

I couldn’t say any of those things. My insides were disfigured so hideously, I wouldn’t wish seeing them on my worst enemy. Instead, I looked at her for as long as I could bear, then retreated to the living room.

Marta was waiting for me with a bottle of water, quiet music playing over the speakers.

“She’s asleep?” she asked.

“Yep. Out cold. In the guest room.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t demand she wake up and get her ass in your bed.”

Marta knew me too damn well. It was exactly what I wanted to do.

I shrugged, sinking down onto the sofa. “Sometimes, I’m actually able to fight off the devil on my shoulder.”

Marta took a seat on the ottoman in front of me. She rubbed her hands on her jeans, lifting her head to look me in the eye. “You scared me tonight.”

“I know. I scared myself.”

“No, listen to me.” She jabbed a finger at me. “Violence has no place in my life. I survived loving a violent man, but that’s done now. You don’t get to react however you want with no thought of the consequences. This isn’t just your life, Dom.”

“He was touching her, and she was trying to push him off! Where were you?” I hissed.

“I couldn’t see them. If I had, I would have kicked him in the dick. But you sent him to the motherfucking hospital. He won’t be playing tomorrow night. I’m pretty sure you broke a few bones in his face. You went crazy, and for what? What the hell did you accomplish? Terrifying your girl and your best friend?”

I whimpered at that on the inside. “I’d never hurt you in a million years, Mar.”

“But don’t you see? A violent man is a violent man. You’re a volcano waiting to erupt.”

“I know I overreacted, but I will not stand by while a man touches a woman who doesn’t want to be touched. Especially not a woman who is mine.”

She blew out a long breath. “A woman who’s yours? Who the hell are you kidding? Your little entanglement is over in a day. That woman isn’t yours, and now she gets to walk away from another man who used brute force to express his feelings rather than…I don’t know, words.”

She brought me to a halt. “What do you mean another man?”

Marta flicked her fingers dismissively. “Claire’s angel of an ex-husband left her with a concussion as a parting gift.”

“What?” Fury shot me to my feet. “What did you say?”

“Sit down, please. I’ve had enough of your rage for one night. It’s giving me a headache.”

I looked down at Marta, her hand pressed to her forehead. Guilt sapped my strength. My legs folded, sending me back down to the cushions.

“She never told me,” I said.

“I would have thought, with the way you’ve had her locked away with you for the last month, you’d know everything.”

“Fuck.” I scrubbed at my face, frustrated and uneasy. “No, she said he was controlling, but never said a word about physical abuse. Claire…”

Marta leveled me with an assessing glare. “You were thinking about keeping her, weren’t you? Dominic, were you going to ask her to be with you after the tour?”

“Does it matter now?”

Her glare hardened. “You tell me. Does it?”

I hadn’t gone to the bar with an answer. I only knew when Claire said she wanted to stay together, I felt such a powerful sense of relief, I’d been silenced by it.

My hands shook as I stared down at them. Nothing about me had changed. I’d let this beautiful woman in, to an extent, but I was still this deeply chaotic, damaged, unfit-for-human-companionship man. If I kept her, I’d ruin her. I’d hurt her and break her heart. Not because I would stop wanting her, but because I wasn’t any good at loving.

Not even myself.

Everything about Claire was good, including my memories. I’d like to think she had collected some good ones of me. If we cut this off now, we wouldn’t sully them. I’d leave her sweet, freckled face pure in my mind, like my grandparents’ house back in Georgia.

She’d move on, get her life together, find someone else—someone her age who wasn’t emotionally stunted and unable to give her everything she deserved.

The knife already lodged inside me twisted, stirring my guts into a mass of knots.

I opened my palms on my knees. “We had an agreement. Four weeks and we’d walk away.”

Marta nodded slowly. “So, nothing’s changed.”

She meant I hadn’t changed. Maybe I had, I didn’t know, but it wasn’t enough.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket. Not many people had the number, so I took it out, checking the screen. Isabela had texted.

Claire informed me of the incident tonight. I’m flying out tomorrow morning to handle everything. Try not to burn down the world or punch a grandpa before I get there.

“Iz is coming.”

Marta rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. What a perfect cherry on top of this shit sundae. What are you going to do, Dom?”

Groaning, I shoved my hands into my hair. “I’m going to do the right thing for once.”

It might possibly kill me, but I was going to do right by Claire, no matter what.