Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I grin but continue on with my story. “I sang for me because it made me happy, but the boys were always pushing me to make a career out of it. By the time I came across the page, I already had thousands of followers, and the boys gave me no choice but to go along with it. So, every few days, I’d record another cover and Jax would post it.”
She nods her head, a little in shock, and hits play on a cover of Irreplaceable by Beyonce. “Holy shit, Cass. You’re fucking good.”
Once again, the boys scoff at the remark. “She’s a bit better than good, don’t you think?” Jax suggests.
“Uh, yeah,” she breathes. “Why’d you stop?”
My eyes flick to Jax, who I notice already has his heavy stare on me. I let out a sad sigh. “I couldn’t sing when I left for New York,” I say, leaving it at that. But just as I knew she would, she understands me perfectly. With a small smile and a quick nod, she pulls up the next video.
“Hey, this one’s recent,” she muses as she hits play.
“What the hell?” I ask as the song I sang at the wedding plays through the small speakers of my laptop. I snatch it from her and stare at the screen, knowing from the angle the video was taken this would have been shot by either Carter or Logan. I stare at the screen completely dumbfounded, until I notice the caption—Ladies and gentlemen, she’s back!
“Fucking Logan,” I mutter under my breath, remembering those exact words he said to me at the wedding after I sang. Though at the time, I was too focused on Jax to have really paid attention to anyone else.
“Bloody hell,” Brianna says, watching the screen over my shoulder. “You should have a recording deal by now.”
I press my lips together and cringe, really wishing she hadn’t bought this up. “What?” Jax asks, noticing my hesitation.
I look up from the screen and give him a nervous look. “I sort of had two labels seek me out when I was in New York.”
“WHAT?” Brianna screeches as Carter straightens himself, paying a little more attention to the conversation.
“Calm down. I didn’t accept it.”
“What?” This time it’s Carter questioning me. “Are you fucking kidding me? I love you, kid, but sometimes you do the most idiotic things.”
“What’s the big deal? I don’t want to be some big celebrity singer with no life. I want to be a physiotherapist. You all know this. I sing for me because it makes me happy, not for some fat, balding dude in a suit who will make all the decisions and butcher my songs.”
Jax’s gaze narrows on me, and I realize he’s trying to figure me out. “You sure?” he asks.
I think it over and realize that I honestly don’t know. I want to sing, but I also want to be a physiotherapist. The thought of becoming some big-time celebrity scares the shit out of me. I shrug my shoulders and Jax steps forward, taking my shoulders in his big hands. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. I guess I want to sing, but I want it to be for me. I don’t want some big record label having a say in what I can and can’t do.”
He nods his understanding. “What if we just go back to what we were doing before? Maybe you could record some of your own songs and post them, too?”
At that, my chin lifts, and I look up at him. “I like that idea,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I thought you might,” he says with a wink before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.
“Ugh, if you two are going to start that again, I’m out,” Bri declares as she takes my laptop off the counter and disappears into the living room.
With a laugh, Jax gets back to helping Carter set up my recording stuff, and I leave to shower. Within minutes, the door opens, and Jax strips before sliding into the shower with me. “Thank you,” I murmur into his chest as he wraps his arms around me. I don’t have to explain what the thank you is for. He just knows what I’m referring to. He knows me. “Is Carter gone?”
His eyes become hooded as his hands begin to roam. “You think I’d be in here with you if he was still under this roof?”
“Good point.”
I pick up my bottle of bodywash, frowning as I struggle to shake the last few drops out of the bottle. “How many showers have you been having here?” I question, forgetting just how regularly he has to shower when taking into account his multiple training sessions. “I’ve never gone through a bottle this quickly before.”
“I’ll buy you some more,” Jax whispers in my ear, bodywash the furthest thing from his mind. “As long as this never has to stop.”