Free I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) by Erika Kelly

Buck’s show?” his dad said. “You’re not afraid of performing without your band, are you?”
    “Jesus, Dad, don’t make an ass of yourself. I don’t have anything to be afraid of. We’ve got a different festival or gig every night of the week. I’ll do the show when things settle down.”
    “Sure thing. Looking forward to it.” Buck seemed uncomfortable with the battle between father and son.
    “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talent under all that . . .” Eddie made a sweeping gesture from Derek’s biker boots to his chin-length dark blond hair. His laughter died down as hegave Buck a serious expression. “You really should give my son a chance. Underneath all the noise, he’s got some talent. Hell, he’s my son. Some of it has to have rubbed off, right?”
    Oh, hell, no. This man was not getting away with this crap. Violet smiled at Buck. “Didn’t you love that article in
Rolling Stone
when Michael Kramer compared Derek to Les Claypool and Paul McCartney? Oh, my God, made me so proud of him. He said Derek’s got the ‘deeply melodic, flawless bass of Paul McCartney, along with the ability to funk things up with Les Claypool’s signature slap bass sound.’” She made sure she radiated pure pride.
    “Yeah, I read that. That was awesome.” Buck clapped Derek on the shoulder. “Love to get you in the studio, man. Let everyone hear what you’ve got.”
    “Definitely,” Derek began. “I’ll be in touch.”
    “Won’t we be in New York next week?” Violet asked him.
    “Uh-oh,” his dad said. “Isn’t that where your publicist lives? Does she know you took up with this one?” Eddie lifted his brows in a show of feigned surprise to Buck. “Hey, here’s one for your blog. Breaking news. Derek’s got yet another new girlfriend.”
    Anger tightened Derek’s features, and his body went rigid. “Dad—”
    But before he could speak, Violet took one step forward. “It’s so sweet how closely you follow your son’s career in the press. You guys should get together when we’re in New York, though, so you can catch up with him personally.”
    She gripped Derek’s hand tightly. For just a few seconds, their gazes locked, and the whole world shut down. She could see his anger—a live, seething force inside him—settle down, feel his muscles relax. For that one moment, she felt like his lifeline.
    A droplet of sweat trickled down the side of his face, and she gently wiped it away with her fingers. She willed him to keep his focus on her—and not let that snake of a dad get to him.
    “Anyhow,” she said to Buck. “Why don’t you give us some dates and times, and we’ll get back to you. He’ll be pretty inundated with press in the city, but we’ll try and squeeze it in. Sound good?”
    Buck smiled. “Sounds great.” He shook Derek’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.” He nodded to Eddie and Violet before taking off.
    Violet turned to Eddie. “Mr. Valencia, it’s so great to finally meet you. Strangely, everything I’ve heard about you is true.” She squeezed Derek’s hand. “Ready to go?”
    •   •   •
    The white noise of the rumbling engine should’ve lulled her overactive mind to sleep, but thoughts kept charging through, jolting her, keeping her wide awake. Strange bus, strange people, weird and very strange new world.
    Usually, she could sleep anywhere. She’d had to.
    In her first foster home, after her grandma died, Violet had shared a bed with three other little kids. Squished together, they slept like puppies in a basket. She didn’t remember much from the early days—she’d only been six—but she did remember the sticky heat, the tangle of sweaty limbs, and the mix of scents in that first bed. Nothing bad, really. Mostly spaghetti sauce, baby shampoo, and the laundered scent of cotton pajamas.
    Her sharpest memory was the loneliness, the fear. When her grandma died, the sorrow had spilled through her like water, a constant, seeping, unstoppable