You're the Only One

Copyright © 2017 by E.M. Abel

All rights reserved.

Visit my website at http://emabelbooks.com

Cover Designer: Renee Ericson, RE Creatives

Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1544697529

To the believers,

the survivors,

and the love that perseveres.

Preface

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Special Thanks

About the Author

SKY

Istood nervously beside Dillon as he rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. He was fighting the ugly self-doubt that had been holding him back for years, the treacherous voice in his head that told him he wasn’t good enough. But I knew better. And, for once, he was listening to me instead.

Gripping on to Dillon’s strong arms, I squeezed and peered up into his brown eyes. Man, I’d fucking die for his eyelashes.

Dillon’s eyes were a dark chocolate brown, surrounded by the thickest black lashes that curled up on the ends. There was no denying how gorgeous he was with his perfectly smooth mocha skin, full lips, and six-foot-two athletic build. When he smiled—which didn’t happen very often—and revealed those killer dimples, you could almost hear the panties dropping around the world. But it wasn’t only his looks that made him appealing. Dillon had a depth that a lot of men lacked. He always noticed the little things, filing away every detail to use in his songs.

Don’t get me wrong; my feelings for Dillon were purely platonic. We were best friends. We’d grown up together, and once you knew enough about a person, romance was out of the question.

You can do this, Dillon. Go up there, and do what you were meant to do. This is your purpose. This is your calling. These people are lucky that you’ve chosen them to witness your gift.

Dillon chuckled, and I could feel some of the tension leave his body. You’re delusional.

He ran his hands over the stubble on his jaw as his eyes scanned the full bar we were standing in. I could see the fear in him, and I was scared, too, but I refused to let it show.

We’ll see. I glanced around the room at all the people talking and drinking, practically ignoring the young woman onstage, singing her karaoke version of Taylor Swift’s newest song.

Every Friday was open mic night at O’Brien’s Pub, and every Friday, I’d drag Dillon here, hoping he’d find the courage to sing. I knew, if I could convince him to get in front of an audience just once, he’d finally realize how talented he was. But, now that he’d agreed to do it, I was second-guessing myself.

What if no one listens? What if people don’t fall in love with his voice the way I did?

Thank you, Angie! Great job! Okay, we’ve got someone new up next. Please give a round of applause for Dillon Frazier! The bar owner held his hand out, inviting Dillon to the stage.

I sucked in a breath. This was it.

I instantly smiled and started clapping to hide my nerves as Dillon gave me a hesitant look and ran his hand through his thick black hair.

You’ve got this, Dillon. Just do what you do.

He took a cleansing deep breath and started walking up the stairs toward the stage as my heartbeat doubled in speed. My hands were sweating like crazy, and I had to pee, but there was no way I was going to move. Dillon needed me.

He walked over to say something to the drummer before going to the front of the stage. I kept my eyes trained on his face, praying that he wouldn’t shut down or get a massive case of stage fright. Dillon had never performed on a stage before, and I knew his heart must be pounding out of his chest, but he was hiding it well.

He flashed one of his rare smiles at the owner as he took his position behind the microphone, and the dimples on his cheeks faded as he looked out over the crowded bar. His gaze met mine for a second before he closed his eyes. I could hear his exhale through the speakers.

The room was loud, and most of the audience didn’t even notice he was up there. I thought it helped him though. He seemed to be in his own world when his hands reached for the microphone. His eyes squeezed shut as he belted out the first line of Sam Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come, and in an instant, the nervous and unsure Dillon transformed into an artist.

Conversations ceased, and all eyes were on my best friend as his raspy, soulful, and deep voice sang of struggle and change. My eyes watered, and I couldn’t hold back the giddy laugh that escaped my lips as Dillon stepped into his own skin, showing the world how brightly he could shine.

Finally.

Dillon’s eyes were closed for most of the performance, but it didn’t seem to matter. He had the entire room mesmerized with his voice. I swore, I heard women swooning around me. When the song ended, he opened his eyes, and the room erupted with applause. Dillon’s face lit up, and I stuck two fingers between my lips to whistle extra loud as I jumped up and down in my heels. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Thank you, he muttered into the microphone with a shy smile on his lips before walking off the stage.

He was playing it cool, but I could see the excitement in his eyes as he approached. He could pretend all he wanted, but I wasn’t going to hold back.

Launching myself into his arms, I shouted over the loud applause that still hadn’t stopped, Dude! I fucking told you! Oh my God, Dillon! You were amazing!

He was full-on blushing, and it was the cutest thing ever. Within seconds, people were walking up to us and complimenting Dillon on his performance.

Your voice is so good. Do you have any music online or anything? I’d love to hear more, a young brunette said as her two friends gawked at him.

Dillon was caught off guard, so I cut in, Yeah, he’s got a YouTube channel. Dillon Frazier is the name.

She looked at me, as if she’d just realized I was there. Oh. Okay, thanks.

I’m not his girlfriend or anything, I said, moving my finger between Dillon and me. He’s totally single.

People always thought we were a couple, and Dillon swore, I was the biggest cockblocker in the world. Lately, I had been on a mission to keep his cock completely unblocked to prove a point. I thought it was hilarious—him, not so much.

Really? Her face lit up with a smile.

Dillon narrowed his eyes at me.

Really. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I said, giving Dillon a sly look. I knew he hated this.

It is. So, can I buy you a drink?

Dillon seemed taken aback by the woman’s assertiveness. It was fascinating, what talent and a great voice could do to a man’s sex appeal. He raised an eyebrow in my direction, his way of asking if I was cool with it.

I nodded. Go ahead. I’m good. I was gonna catch a cab home anyway.

To my surprise, Dillon reached an arm out to give me a hug. His stubble rubbed against my cheek as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, Thanks for believing in me.

Pulling back, I made sure to meet his eyes when I replied, Maybe it’s about time you believed, too.

FOUR YEARS LATER

DILLON

You want love without the pain…want all the sun but not the rain…rain, pain, sane, blame…shit.

Flipping bacon over in the pan in front of me, I simultaneously fought with the words in my head. I’d been working on this song for over a month now, and it was consuming me. So lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even noticed that Brandi was in the room until her arms were wrapping around my waist.

Morning, she murmured against my back, her hand moving down to grip my dick through my sweatpants.

I welcomed the reprieve and reached over to turn off the stove and slide the pan off the burner. Turning around, I met her seductive brown eyes before my gaze raked down her body. She was wearing one of my T-shirts, her hair mussed up from the fun we’d had in bed the night before. Leaning down, I took her ass in my hands. She was so light, I had no problem lifting her and setting her down on the countertop behind her. She squealed, and my cock stiffened as it pressed against the warmth between her legs.

Morning, I said, leaning down to take her mouth. I was pleasantly surprised to find she’d brushed her teeth.

She let out a sexy moan and pulled me closer as my hands made a trail up her bare thighs. My right hand snaked between us to find her sopping wet already.

Brandi was the first woman I’d invited to sleep over in a long time, and I wasn’t in a rush to kick her out. That had to be a good sign.

Just as I was pulling her shirt up, there was a loud knock on my apartment door. My rottweiler, Kuma, barked once, alerting me of my visitor, and before I had a chance to say or do anything, the door swung open.

D! Wake the fuck up, dude! You will not believe who I saw last night!

I dropped my hands, and Brandi gasped, both of us turning to face the front door where Sky was now walking in. Her brown hair was in some kind of messy bun on top of her head. She had her favorite pair of Ray-Bans over her eyes, red leather pants on her legs, and an oversize T-shirt hanging off her shoulder. Stomping in with her Dr. Martens squeaking on my tiled floor, she kicked the door shut behind her and bent over to give Kuma her usual rubdown, not realizing what she’d interrupted.

When her eyes finally moved to the kitchen, she froze, her eyebrows shooting up and bright red lips falling open. Oh, shit. I’m sorry. She quickly turned her back to us.

I shook my head. I could already see the jealousy and accusation in Brandi’s expression.

Definitely a turn-off. My dick instantly softened.

Brandi, this is my friend Sky. Sky, Brandi.

Sky waved behind herself without turning around. Hi!

Brandi’s eyes hardened. She was clearly annoyed that I wasn’t kicking Sky out, and she pushed me backward, giving herself enough room to get off the counter. Hey, she deadpanned.

I can come back, D. I didn’t realize you had company.

No, don’t worry about it. I was just leaving, Brandi said, storming past me and toward my room.

Maybe I should chase after her and apologize or be pissed at Sky for intruding on us, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy for either. It was obvious Sky and I were only friends. She’d found me between another woman’s legs, and she couldn’t care less. If Brandi had gotten upset over that, then there was no point in pursuing anything with her. My friendship with Sky was one thing I refused to sacrifice for any woman. She meant too much to me.

Sky turned around, and her sunglasses were now sitting on top of her head. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked at me and mouthed, Sorry.

I shrugged and went back to cooking breakfast as Sky came into the kitchen. Taking Brandi’s spot on the counter, she swung her legs as I distributed the bacon onto two plates, and then I started making scrambled eggs.

A few minutes later, Brandi came out, wearing the tight black dress she’d worn the night before. She didn’t speak a word as she stalked through the apartment and out the door, slamming it hard behind her.

Yikes, Sky muttered.

I guess that’s over.

You sure you don’t want to go after her or something? I thought you liked her. I could have left, you know.

I chuckled as I finished plating the eggs. And miss hearing about last night? Don’t worry about it, Sky, really. You know how I feel about this shit. If a woman can’t handle the fact that we’re friends, then I’d rather know it up front. Besides, if she got that angry over you, imagine how she’d feel after a show.

Sky pursed her lips and gave me a sympathetic look because she knew I was right. Whoever I ended up dating would need to trust me and be secure enough to deal with the other women in my life. Since I’d started booking more and more gigs over the past year, I’d gained a pretty strong following, and about ninety-five percent of my fans were women.

Well, what happened? I asked, handing Sky a plate of food.

She took a large bite of eggs, so instead of responding, her eyes widened, and she rolled them toward the ceiling as she held out her finger, telling me to wait. I shoved a piece of bacon in my mouth.

Do you remember Logan Evans, from high school?

My eyes narrowed. Yeah.

Of course I remembered Logan. He’d taken Sky’s virginity and broken her heart. He was a rich prick who used his daddy’s money and status to get what he wanted.

I went out clubbing last night with Lydia and some of her friends. We were dancing, and some creepy asshole kept rubbing himself all over me. She stopped long enough to shudder before continuing, "I was pretty drunk, so I decided to see if TJ could save me. She owes me big time since I pretended to be her lesbian lover last week. Anyway, I was texting her as I was walking, and—bam!—I ran into some dude’s back. And guess who it was."

A muscle twitched in my jaw, but I didn’t respond. So much of what she’d said disturbed me. Like the fact that some douche bag had been rubbing himself all over her. Or that she had gotten so drunk, she’d had to call TJ for help. Logan was just another layer to an already fucked up situation. That seemed to be the only kind Sky found herself in.

Logan! she shouted, as if I hadn’t put two and two together. He was there with some friends. It was so weird. I mean, it’s been almost five years since we last saw each other. He moved to New York a year ago. How crazy is that?

Crazy, I deadpanned, shoveling more food into my mouth.

She cocked an eyebrow but kept talking, He’s taking me out tonight.

I stopped chewing and stared at her in disgust and disbelief. She had to be kidding. After the way that piece of shit had treated her, there was no way she’d be dumb enough to go out with him again. I shook my head, trying really hard to bite my tongue. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but if she was giving that motherfucker another chance, she wasn’t as smart as I thought she was.

Of course, she could read my expression and knew I didn’t approve. What? Why are you making that face?

What face? I’m eating.

That face! she shouted, pointing at it. You look like you’re holding in a fart or something. I know what you’re thinking. Logan screwed me over in high school, so why would I even give him the time of day? Right?

I didn’t speak.

She already knew my answer. Right. Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not going to give him anything. This is how I get my revenge, she said, a devilish smirk curling her red lips.

What the fuck are you talking about, Sky? How is going on a date with him going to help you?

You should have seen the way he was staring at me, D. He wants me. He wants me bad, and I’m going to play him just like he played me. He’s going to take me on fancy dates. He’s going to spoil and woo me. Then, when I have him right where I want him, I’m going to leave his ass standing there with his dick in his hands. Ideally, this will go down in public or somewhere super embarrassing. It’s going to be glorious! Raising her hands in the air, she let out an exaggerated evil laugh.

I shook my head. You’re insane.

Yes, I know, but I’m also kind of a genius.

That’s debatable.

Nope, hashtag truth. Capital T-R-U-T-H. And the plan starts tonight. He’s taking me to Sakana. Sakana, Dillon. I’ve been trying to get into that restaurant since the first week we moved to the city. Spending his money is going to be so much fun.

This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. Don’t you think it’s a little petty to be seeking revenge on an old boyfriend? Shouldn’t you be the better person and let that shit go?

Pfft, Sky scoffed. Petty? Did you really just say that to me? He took pictures of me naked and showed his fucking friends, Dillon. I barely ate or left my house for weeks. He totally violated my privacy and my trust. You were there, remember? Karma will understand. Shit, I’m saving her the trouble. He deserves to suffer.

That was true. I’d never seen Sky more heartbroken than after our friend Booze had told us about those pictures. She had been depressed for months after that, and honestly, she hadn’t been the same since. Something in her eyes had faded away that day, and it’d never really come back.

Booze and I had gone out that night and poured sugar into the gas tank of Logan’s brand-new Escalade. We’d threatened him and made his life a living hell. What I’d really wanted was to beat the living shit out of him, but I wouldn’t have gotten away with it. Logan had still been a minor at seventeen years old, and I had been nineteen. Not to mention, his father had had a lot of influence in Greensburg, Maryland—the town where we’d grown up. Despite all of that, I might’ve done it anyway, but I’d made a promise to my mom that I’d stay out of trouble, and that’d included not getting arrested.

What makes you think he’s going to care, Sky? He was an asshole then, and chances are, he’s still an asshole now. He’s got plenty of his daddy’s money to burn, so spending it won’t teach him anything.

Don’t you worry about me, D. I’ve got it planned out. He’s going to pay, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it. Now, pass me the hot sauce.

A few hours later, Sky went to work her second job, walking dogs, and I sat on the couch with Kuma, watching baseball. Her big head was in my lap as I rubbed her favorite spot behind her ears. She groaned when I stopped to reach for my notebook on the coffee table but didn’t budge as I rested it on her side and started writing.

You want love without the pain.

Want all the sun but not the rain.

Take the blame.

You drive me insane.

Ribbons of guilt…wrap around you, like silk holding you together…as I fall apart…

Fuck.

I scribbled over the words I’d written and tossed the notebook and pen on the couch beside me. I hadn’t written a song in so long, and it was frustrating the hell out of me. When Sky and I had first moved to New York, I’d been inspired by everything—the people, the energy, the culture—but, now, nothing. Something was missing that had been there before, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Hope? Passion maybe?

The longer I spent working construction and doing gigs in run-down bars, the further my dream of pursuing music seemed to slip away.

Running my hand through my hair, I sighed and watched the Orioles hit a home run before getting off the couch.

Let me get changed, and then we’ll go for a walk, okay? I rubbed Kuma’s head one more time before walking down the hall toward my small bedroom.

I pulled my T-shirt over my head, tossing it onto the pile of dirty laundry, as my phone started to ring. It was my friend and coworker Matteo.

Hello?

I got you a gig this Thursday.

Matteo had gone to see one of my shows about six months ago and had taken on the job as my manager even though I’d told him no a million times.

Okay.

Oh no, please don’t say thank you or anything.

I’ll thank you when I see the place, I muttered, walking toward my dresser to get another shirt.

Matteo had booked me a few gigs in some really shady places in the past few months. There was nothing like singing to a crowd of gangbangers and motorcycle clubs to force you to work on your stage presence. I supposed I should have thanked him for the experience, but a fan’s boyfriend had nearly stabbed me after one of my sets, so I guessed I was still holding a grudge.

Don’t even sweat it, dude. This is a classy joint. I went there last night. It’s called The Angry Beaver.

I stopped moving and closed my eyes. Seriously?

Hey! Don’t turn all diva on me now, man. We’ve gotta take what we can get. You never know what might happen.

We?

"Yes, we, motherfucker. Look, I’m not asking you for any money, am I? All I ask is, if you make it, you take me with you. Let me be your manager, your water boy, your roadie, whatever. As long as I get some pussy and get to travel the world with you."

I chuckled and shook my head. Don’t hold your breath. You know how many people are out there, trying to make it? My chances are slim to none.

Yeah, well, none of them are you. And you need to stop fucking talking like that. Haven’t you ever heard of the law of attraction? You’ve gotta put those positive thoughts out there if you want them to happen.

You sound like Sky.

Well, she’s right—and sexy as fuck, too. Make sure she knows about the show, so I can sit next to her fine ass. I still don’t understand how you can be around that woman so much without ever tryin’ to hit it.

I told you, we grew up together. It’s not like that.

Yeah, whatever. Just tell me you’ll be there this Thursday at nine.

Sighing, I contemplated telling him no, but I knew I couldn’t. My music meant too much to me. I’ll be there.

A few minutes later, Kuma and I were walking down a busy Brooklyn sidewalk as I listened to music. Having a hundred-twenty-pound rottweiler beside me helped part the sea of pedestrians. We stopped for a second, so Kuma could pee on her favorite patch of grass when a gust of wind blew a sheet of paper onto the ground, right under her stream. I heard someone shouting, and I pulled out an earbud as a woman came running toward us.

Oh no! No! No!

I glanced down at Kuma, who had her ears back and her head down, as if she’d done something wrong.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! the woman shouted as she stopped beside me, longingly staring at the sheet of paper. She held her hand out toward the ground. That was my headshot, and he peed on it. It was the last one I had left, and of course, of all the places, it landed under a peeing dog.

She.

The woman seemed startled by my voice, and she finally lifted her gaze from the paper to look at me. Her eyes widened a little. Huh?

"She peed on it," I said, tilting my head toward Kuma, who was still staring up at her.

Her perfectly manicured hand covered her eyes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at your dog. I’m running late, and…fuck. That was my last headshot.

As my eyes crawled their way up her legs, I began to realize how sexy this woman was. She had a lean body, full lips, and golden eyes that seemed to sparkle when the sun hit them just right. She had a head of thick black hair, full of tight curls.

Headed to an audition? I asked, bending down to pinch a corner of her photograph that hadn’t been peed on. I picked it up and shook it out. It was a good shot.

She cracked a smile then, and my curiosity grew into attraction. She had a unique and unpretentious beauty that I wasn’t used to seeing. I was half-black and half-Puerto Rican, and we had similar skin tones, but her features were more exotic than mine. I wondered where she’d gotten them.

No. I’m going to be in a few shows during Fashion Week. One of the designers asked to see my headshot.

Impressive.

Wow. Fashion Week, huh? Congratulations.

Thanks. I guess I’ll have to go without that, she said, gesturing toward