“Hey, rock star,” Jeanette’s singsong voice rouses me from my Zeke-induced delirium.
“Hey, Jeanie.” Needing to focus on anything other than the brooding pile of muscle I left in the car, I dig through my oversized bag. Retrieving the small crystal I took from my personal collection, I grin. “Brought you something.”
With an excited squeal, she runs around her desk, holding out her hand. Carefully, I drop the gemstone into her palm.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Holding it up to the light, she murmurs, “Just look at how red it is. It’s like a fireball is caught inside.”
My grin widens. “Red quartz helps increase energy. Figured you’re run off your feet most days, so it might help.”
Jeanette pulls me in for a tight hug. “Thank you, honey.” Releasing me again, she scans my face, concern shadowing her features. “You’re tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”
I blink, her question taking me by surprise. “I’m… I’m okay.”
She tips her head to the side. “You sure?”
Clearing my throat, I stare at the faded carpet. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked, that’s all. People ask after Mom all the time, as they should. But questions don’t often go beyond that.” My voice is soft. “I guess I haven’t had to think about how I’d answer it.”
“Oh, love.” She pauses. “What about your band? Surely the boys ask after you?”
“They do, and I love them for it. But they’re guys, you know?”
Jeanette squeezes my arm. “Well, I’m always here to ask the deep questions and to listen. Remember that, okay?”
“Thank you.”
Releasing me, she smiles. “How’s recording going?”
Excitement spreads through me. “Really well. We finished tracking the first song on our album yesterday. Zeke’s a hard-ass, but we’re getting solid results. You should’ve heard my guitar solo.” I give a long whistle.
Jeanette claps her hands. “How exciting!” She quickly sobers, her brow crinkling. “Who’s Zeke? I’ve never heard you mention him before.”
“He’s our music producer.” Heat crawls up my neck and I suddenly find the wall over her left shoulder super interesting.
“I see.” With a knowing smirk, Jeanette moves behind the desk and places her crystal next to the others.
Shifting my bag, I change the topic. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s good. The latest round of medication seems to be helping, so she’s having a better day today. The minx even asked if I wanted my aura read.”
My smile is wide. “That sounds like Mom. She’s never been able to resist an aura reading. Yours must be especially powerful today.”
“Girl, I’m up each night painting and spend my days either behind this desk or caring for residents. I’m surprised I’ve got one. Could have sworn my aura would be too exhausted to make an appearance.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “We’ve all got them, Jeanie. It’s an electromagnetic energy field that surrounds us.” I pause. “Reckon yours is green.”
“Green?”
“Yeah. I remember Mom telling me green is the color of healers and people who do good for others. I can’t see them, but I have no doubt yours would be a bright green.”
She places a hand over her heart, blinking furiously. “Oh, honey.” Shooing me in the direction of the alarmed door, she says, “Go see your mother. You’ll have me blubbering all over my new shirt otherwise.”
Blowing her a kiss, I push the door open and walk to room number eight. When I reach it, I take a moment. It’s hard not knowing who I’m going to be faced with on the other side, but I take comfort in Jeanette saying Mom’s having a good day. After inhaling a deep breath, I hold it, count to four, and then exhale. When my inner tension is released, I push my shoulders back, knock, then enter.
“Hey, Mom.”
She’s in the same seat as yesterday, staring out the window. Outside the sky is a clear blue with the occasional fluffy cloud drifting past, though it’s mostly taken up by the gnarled overhanging branches of the ancient tree. I’d do anything to swap this vista for that of the ocean. Like me, Mom loves the untamed beauty of the Pacific, especially when it’s stormy. Once the band starts making money, the first thing I’m going to buy is a house by the water for her. One with panoramic views and round-the-clock care.
Mom turns at my entrance. Her cheeks, though sallow, have color in them. In a reed-thin yet unmistakable voice, she whispers, “Sunshine.”
She remembers.
In three strides, I’m at her feet. Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and rest my head in her lap. Shaking fingers caress my cheek and her touch transports me back three years. Before forgetfulness, disorientation, and repetition of meaningless words. Before confusion, aggression, and an inability to do simple math. Before appointments, diagnosis, and our world being forever changed.
My throat tightens, but I refuse to cry. Not today. Today, I’ve got Mom back.
Shifting onto my heels, I memorize her features. Alzheimer’s disease hasn’t been kind. “How are you feeling?”
She gives a weak smile. “Like nothing a little fish oil and ginkgo biloba won’t fix.”
If only they would.
However, I’m determined to remain upbeat. With a shake of my bag, I wink. “Lucky I came prepared. Even brought you some vitamin D3.”
“Thank you, sunshine.” She pauses. Her cerulean eyes, so similar to mine, stare past me.
Worried she’s slipping into a decline, I take her skeletal hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”
“I see pink.”
“Mom?”
“Normally, your aura is a yellowy-green—it’s the musician in you. But there’s more today.” Her head tilts to one side and purple-tipped hair falls over one shoulder. “Pink.”
Dropping my forehead to our joined hands, I exhale a ragged breath. Thank God. Auras I can deal with; delusions and disorientation are what tear me in two.
Pulling myself together, I sit upright, chiding playfully, “Aren’t you meant to ask permission before reading someone’s aura?”
She lifts her chin, her voice weak but firm. “You’re blood from my blood, bone from my bone. I don’t need permission to read your aura.”
There she is, the formidable woman I’ve missed so much.
I grin.
“Do you know what pink energy represents?”
Standing, I reach for my discarded bag and empty some of the contents onto the bed. “That I’m tired?”
“You’re in the beginning stages of love.”
I pause.
“Um, what?” I ask.
“Who is he?”
My stomach bottoms out somewhere past my ankles. Blindly, I grasp the rainbow coverlet, needing it for balance. “Who is who?”
Mom settles back in the chair, her eyes drifting closed. “I imagine him to be tall. You always did like them tall, and ruggedly handsome.”
The scent of pine engulfs me.
“I imagine him to be artistic and driven. You always liked them purposeful.”
Honey-colored eyes fill my vision.
“And I imagine him to be kind, generous, the most beautiful soul.”
Yeah, no. Blinking, I shake my head.
Mom is smiling. Part of me wants to encourage this dream since it makes her happy; it’s been so long since I’ve seen her this content. However, the realist in me knows it will only lead to eventual disappointment, and I can’t do that to her. I won’t.
“Mom, no one ever hangs around long enough for me to fall in love. The boys always chase them away before I get a chance.”
She sighs, her breath whisper soft. “Sunshine, I never said you were in love. I said you were in the beginning stages of love.” When she opens her eyes, they glimmer with mischief. “That Aphrodite is a cunning one. I’d be careful if I were you.”
A knock sounds, followed by Jeanette poking her head around at the door. “Time for breakfast, Dawn.” She looks from Mom to me. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” I grin, relieved. “Of course not.”
“Maybe you can help me….” Mom rubs her forehead, confused.
“It’s Jeanette, love.”
She stares out the window, her expression shuttered. “Yes, I remember.”
Jeanette busies herself with arranging a food tray on a low table nearby. “What can I help you with, Dawn?”
“Seems my daughter is falling in love.”
“Yeah?” She doesn’t appear surprised. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the tall drink of water waiting by a black Challenger outside, would it?”
“Who?” Mom asks.
“He what?” I shriek.
Jeanette winks at Mom before whispering loudly, “Muscles for days.” She holds out a slice of toast. Daintily, Mom leans forward and takes a bite.
I rub my brow, ignoring the tingles breaking out on my skin. “Zeke told me to call him. He wasn’t meant to just show up.” Turning to Jeanette, I ask, “Please tell me he wasn’t on his way inside.”
She snorts. “No, but if your expression is anything to go by, I wish he was. I’ve never seen you so flustered.”
I begin pacing. It’s not particularly effective since it only takes three strides to move from one side of the room to the other, but I’m determined. “I’m not flustered, Jeanie. I’m annoyed. This is my time to spend with Mom, and he’s encroaching on it.” Straightening my shoulders, I narrow my gaze. “Well, he can damn well wait.”
Jeanette raises an eyebrow.
“Back in a bit.” After spinning on my heel, I rush from the room, navigate the corridors, and stalk outside.
Zeke is leaning against his car. His arms are crossed, one ankle rests in front of the other, and he’s looking far too delectable for his own good.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
I hate how the sun hits one side of his face, casting the other half in shadow. In this light, the angles of his jaw, cheekbone, and nose are more pronounced, making them appear harsher. It shouldn’t be attractive, and I shouldn’t be focusing on this when I have more important issues to deal with. After all, it’s stupid that a man, and a cynical one at that, with a personal vendetta against the world causes my heart to riot or stomach to roll.
Focus, Wil.
I grit my teeth.
Zeke straightens to his full height. Something flares in his gaze but is then gone. He watches me, his expression purposefully blank.
Stopping in front of him, I tip my head back until our eyes meet. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
I blink, glancing away. “Thought I told you I’d call.”
He levels me with a flat stare, I can feel it. The weight of his eyes on me draws my gaze.
“What?”
“You weren’t going to call. You were going to find another way to the studio. It would have taken twice as long and fucked up today’s tracking. I’d bet my console desk on it.”
Bingo.
Not that I’d ever say it out loud. Instead, I stare at my strappy leather sandals. Seems my bravado can’t deal with his close proximity. I’m going to have to woman the hell up. Mom is more important than hormones.
I nibble on my bottom lip. “I’m not ready to leave.”
A thumb and forefinger clasp my chin. My skin burns from the contact. It’s frustrating and immediate, and frustrating that it’s immediate. Slowly, he lifts my head. “We need to go.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
His grip tightens.
“Zeke, you don’t understand. I need more time.”
“Why? Why are you here? This place is a fucking dump.”
His words are a puncture to the chest. Crossing my arms, I glare at him. “It’s none of your damn business.”
Zeke’s eyes dart between mine, searching for the answer I refuse to provide. When I remain silent, he scowls and releases me, taking a step back.
Even though his fingers are now clenched by his sides, my skin still tingles from his touch. Ignoring it, I straighten my shoulders. “Being here is really important to me.”
“And recording isn’t?” he growls. “Have you forgotten how many bands busted their asses in Rising Star to get where you are right now?” He shifts closer, eyes dark and expression hard. “We’ve got a week and a half left of recording. There’s barely enough time to get the tracks down as it is. Anything else is a luxury we sure as fuck can’t afford. Understand?”
I nod, because in theory, I do understand. What he says makes sense—we don’t have time. With the clock ticking on this recording, there isn’t any leeway to spend an extra half an hour with Mom. However, not being able to stay seriously pisses me off because I haven’t seen Mom in forever.
Life is a cruel bitch.
My face must show my frustration because Zeke’s expression softens. He skims the backs of his knuckles along my freckled cheekbone, his voice rough. “March your ass inside and say your goodbyes. I’ll wait out here.”
His comment about my ass doesn’t register because I’m too busy feeling torn between wanting his fingers to remain exactly where they are and wanting to be inside with Mom. Deciding it’s best to extricate myself, I grit my teeth and stalk away.
When I reach Mom’s room, she’s exactly where I left her, eating toast with Jeanette.
“Hey.” My voice catches.
“Sunshine.” She smiles warmly. “Before you say anything, listen to me.” She quirks a brow. “Can you do that?”
I nod.
“By the expression on your face, I’d say you’re upset. Probably because you need to go when you want to stay.” Her head quirks to the side. “Am I right?”
“How—”
She waves away my question. “I know you better than you know yourself, my love. Right now, you’re wasting precious energy that could be better spent elsewhere.” A skeletal hand reaches for me, and I take it in both of mine. “What you’re doing, with the band and everything, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Take it, seize it, create magic. Okay?”
I’m not going to cry.
“I’m really sorry,” I whisper. “I’d much rather stay here with you, but my car isn’t working and Zeke’s my only ride back to the studio.”
With a nod and a gentle squeeze, Mom retracts her hand. Her smile is tired. “Don’t apologize, sunshine. I’ll see you again soon.”
Will she? For the past week, Mom’s been a complete stranger. So why is it that the one time she’s her old self, I have to leave early?
“I’ll take good care of her, Wil.”
Nodding, I force back frustrated tears and focus on collecting my bag. With a sigh, I throw it over one shoulder. “I know. I wouldn’t trust her with anyone else.” Gesturing to the small vitamin containers, I ask, “Can you please give her these? They’re natural remedies to help with memory function.”
“I’ll run them past the director. If she’s happy they won’t impact her medication, I’ll make sure she takes them.”
After giving her a hug, I murmur, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
Kneeling at Mom’s feet, I brush the hair from her cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”
“Love you too, sunshine.”
Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around her frail frame, breathing in my mother. Lavender. Always lavender. It’s a smell synonymous with home. Blinking, I pull away, give a small, sad smile, and leave.
At the main entrance, the door slams shut behind me. Wincing, I cast my eyes heavenward and take a moment to observe the endless sky. It’s beautiful, exactly what I need to center myself and ensure my head and heart are realigned before I say something hurtful.
It doesn’t work.
By the time I make my way to Zeke, I’m as frustrated as when I left. The fact he barks directives at me as soon as I’m within spitting distance doesn’t help either.
“Get in the car.”
Breathe, Wil.
“Now.”
Planting hands on my hips, I narrow my gaze. “I’m so pissed with you right now.”
“Don’t care. Get in.”
Shifting closer, I lift my chin. “Look, I know we have a record to make, I know time is precious, and I know not to back out of my commitments.” Gritting my teeth, I stare over his shoulder, trying to gather my thoughts. When I face him again, my voice is low. “But you need to understand something. What’s inside that nursing home is really freaking important to me. And the fact I’m out here rather than in there is fucking killing me.”
He blinks.
“I’m focused on the long game, Zeke. And I’m thankful for you driving me here today. But you’re making it really freaking hard to remember that when you speak to me like trash.” My gaze narrows as I take a step forward. “You need to watch yourself because I’m this close,” I hold up my index finger and thumb with the tiniest sliver of space between them, “to cutting off your balls and using them as earrings if you disrespect me again.”
His jaw is working hard.
“Got it?”
He glares at me.
I glare back.
Pause. “Get in the damn car.”
Since Drake and Reid will be the perfect accomplices to the murder I’m about to commit, I give Zeke a final glower before settling inside the vehicle.
Ironically, Zeke doesn’t move. He stays outside, his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets for the longest time.
Eventually, the car door opens and he gets in beside me. Reaching into the back seat, he grabs a paper bag and drops it in my lap.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.” The engine roars to life.
As we slowly make our way along the driveway, I peek inside. My breath catches. Flicking my gaze to his stony profile, I ask, “How did you know?”
“Wild guess.”
Thankfully, the mouthwatering smell drags my attention away from the man beside me. A flaky butter croissant, tub of yogurt, and fresh fruit salad are nestled on a bed of white napkins.
Heaven.
As though on cue, a loud rumble sounds. Zeke’s gaze slides to my stomach. He smirks. “Knew you hadn’t eaten breakfast.”
“Didn’t have time,” I grumble, reaching for the croissant and taking a large bite. As much as I want to hate the man, it’s impossible when he’s acting so sweet. After suppressing a small moan, I mumble, “Thank you. This is really thoughtful.”
Zeke snorts. “There’s a reason I want you fed.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to work your ass hard today.”
Sordid images of Zeke working me in the dirtiest way possible bombard me. I bet he’s a fiend in the sack. I bet he growls filthy demands and follows through on every single one of them.
Man, that’s hot.
I shift in my seat.
Zeke mutters a curse before reaching out and wiping a crumb from my bottom lip. His touch is static, an electromagnetic pulse intent on weakening my resolve.
White noise.
A gravelly voice.
“… guitar sounds shit.”
Double take.
Inwardly slapping myself upside the head, I face him. “Sorry? I missed that.”
He speeds through a corner. “I said, I went over last night’s tracking and I’m not happy with it. The guitar sounds shit.”
Way to throat punch the ego. “So, we’re going to rerecord the first song?”
“Just guitar. Drums and vocals are fine.”
“And song two?”
“Yep.”
“In one day?”
“Yep.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Eat up. You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”