I SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY AGAINST the hard, wooden chair, my nerves frayed and frenzied. Just because Kenny had this all wrapped up, the plea accepted by both parties, didn’t mean I was sitting easy. Furthest from it.
Being in the same room with Martin Jennings was punishment in itself.
My knee bounced a million miles a minute, and Kenny cut me a glance. Calm down.
I couldn’t.
An itch slithered along my skin. Did it make me sick I wanted nothing more than to stand up in the middle of court and take out Jennings?
He sat across the room, also facing the judge. That didn’t mean his arrogance wasn’t filling the room. Polluting the air. Felt like I was suffocating in it.
I tugged at my too-tight collar, fiddled with my tie.
“Mr. Stone,” the judge asked, the old man crotchety and bald, “you’re in agreement with the plea accepted by the state prosecutors?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, throat raw.
He nodded and peered at the papers through wire-rimmed reading glasses. He didn’t look up at me as he read the terms, the fine, and the probation.
I knew I should thank my lucky stars I wasn’t going to find my ass behind bars again, but hell, this shit stung. Jennings sitting over there cool as a cat, the prick kicked back like he was squeaky clean and not the bottom feeder he was.
Somewhere along the way, these bogus assault charges had taken the backburner to whatever corrupt intentions he had with Shea and Kallie. Yeah, I wanted out of this legal mess. Mostly because it meant I’d be free, better equipped to take care of my girls.
The judge kept reading, “The defendant may not come within one hundred yards of victim…”
Right.
They were telling me to stay away from Jennings. If only that would keep him away from Shea and Kallie.
The judge finished and we stood as he did, the man quick to exit to his chambers. The moment he did, Kenny turned to me and clapped me on the back. “Congratulations, Sebastian.” He narrowed his eyes in warning. “Let’s stay out of court, shall we?”
I shook his hand. “I’ll do my best.”
Dry laughter rolled from him. “I think you might want to dig deep to find that best.”
He knew me well.
I followed Kenny through the short gate where Anthony waited, doing my best not to look in Jennings’s direction. I probably deserved a pat on the back considering I could feel his pretentious glare burning into the back of my head.
Anthony shook my hand. A satisfied smile held his face. “I told you we wouldn’t allow you to go to jail for this. This is good, Baz. Really good.”
“You never let me down.”
His smile warmed.
Kenny led the way out of the courtroom, down the hall, and onto the courthouse steps.
A barrage of flashes went off.
No surprise.
The paparazzi descended the second I stepped out the door.
“Mr. Stone, can you tell us the outcome of the assault charges?”
“You made a public statement confirming your relationship with Delaney Rhoads…or Shea Bentley, yet you’re back in L.A. while Ms. Bentley remains in Savannah. Has that relationship ended?”
I knew it was a bad idea to engage them, but that one? Couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
“Ms. Bentley and I are still very much together.”
Anthony grabbed my upper arm, the same way he always did when he went into business mode. “Mr. Stone won’t be answering any further questions this afternoon. You can direct inquiries to my office.”
We crossed the street and headed for my truck parked in the adjoining lot.
I’d left both my car and the Suburban back in Savannah with Shea. Couldn’t help it, wanting to leave something with her, like a promise this time apart wasn’t really a separation, that I’d be coming back to her and Kallie as soon as I could.
Only five days had passed and I was already missing the hell out of them. Missing the laughter and joy. The ease of their house that felt like a home.
Anthony and I said our goodbyes at the curb as he climbed into the back of the town car he had waiting. I clicked the fob and opened the door of my truck.
An ominous presence crawled over me like a disease.
Fuck.
I raked a hand over the top of my head, hesitant to turn around, knowing who I would find. Did it anyway, because what the hell was I supposed to do?
Martin Jennings stood about one hundred fifty feet away. A whole ton closer than the hundred yards the judge had just ordered, the bastard taunting me. Attempting to incite the rage I was doing my best to control.
What was the protocol here? Questions raced. It wasn’t like I’d tracked him down, but I really didn’t have the first clue what the court order entailed. Seemed I should figure that shit out.
Stat.
I released a bitter chuckle as I completely turned around, standing at the open door of my truck. “And to what do I owe the displeasure?”
“You think you got away with this?”
“I got away with this?” My words were teeming with implication. With all the shit I knew about him. So maybe some of it wasn’t first-hand, but God knew my baby brother had witnessed plenty.
Austin had admitted enough for me to know it was Martin’s guys who had supplied both him and Mark. Didn’t give a fuck if it made me a snitch. If it kept Kallie and Shea out of his grips? I’d give myself the damned title.
Go down in flames.
As long as it meant I could protect my family. Every last one of them were tied to this piece of shit.
“I warned you you’d regret fucking with me, and I always make good on my promises.”
My fists clenched. “You like fucking with little girl’s heads? Keeping them scared and wondering what the hell is going on with their lives? Kallie spending two days in your presence was payment enough. One second was too much.”
Cruel and unjust punishment.
Torture.
For all of us.
He scoffed. “That was a mere warning.”
“What do you want?”
“What Shea owes me.” Dark eyes gleamed conceit and contempt. “Everything.”
He set his shoulders back, lifted his scarred chin that I’d really like to scar up some more. “Like I told her, taking you down with her is just a bonus.”
He stared me down like the world owed him something and he was out to take it back.
Scratch that.
Like he owned the world.
Untouchable.
My insides nearly cracked, a knot of aggression throbbing to be unleashed. “Shea owes you nothing,” I growled.
“I think you’ll find that’s not true. Her money-hungry mother assured me in the contracts she was so eager for Shea to sign. Shea breaching them solidified it, and that kid guaranteed it.”
Kallie.
Kallie.
Kallie.
My chest heaved at his disregard because that kid had become my kid.
“Stay away from them. Stay away from my family. Stay away from me.” The words sounded like gravel as I forced them out, holding onto the last threads of my unraveling control.
Last thing I needed was to give into his baiting. I knew this asshole wanted me in jail. Out of his way.
Was that what this was about?
Gettin’ rid of me?
A shot of air escaped his nose.
Incredulous.
Scornful.
“Shea had obligations. She reneged on them. That doesn’t mean I don’t expect restitution. Just like Mark.” He said the last like a threat.
Mark.
I gripped my head.
Pain.
Dread.
Questions.
Too much.
I tried to stand beneath the blow, because it felt like I was under an all-out attack.
Shea.
Kallie.
Mark.
Austin.
How can one man be linked to all the people in my life?
Fuck.
My hand clamped down on the inner door handle of my truck. God knew I was about to come loose.
“You won’t touch her,” I warned. “Even think about it and you can consider the little party we had the last time I showed up at your house a prelude to what’s coming for you.”
Punks kids like your brother aren’t ever going to make it, anyway.
I’d never forget what he’d said.
Like Austin hadn’t mattered. His life worthless. I’d lost all sanity, all restraint, just like he seemed to be begging me to do now.
Jennings laughed, twisted mirth in his eyes. “Did you forget who I am, Sebastian Stone?”
Money.
Power.
Greed.
Pretension.
He busied himself by adjusting the cuffs on his suit jacket, head tipped down to watch the action while he slanted an eye up at me like the cocky bitch he was.
“I will take whatever I want. Shea is mine…she was the second her mother came groveling at my feet, willing to sell her soul and her daughter’s for a little taste of stardom.”
Shea was right. He was a sociopath. A psychopath. He got off on power. Off on exerting whatever morbid control he held over the people around him.
I felt sick—mad with the need to show him who I was.
“You’re wrong. She’s mine.”
Never had I spoken anything truer in my life.
“We’ll see about that.”
I held my ground, throwing daggers I wished were real at the fucker as he gave me one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing around a big SUV.
I climbed into my truck, both hands shaking as I clung to the steering wheel and tried to steady my breaths. They came hard and fast, fueled by pure, unmitigated hate. Asshole knew my hands were tied, bound up by all this court bullshit. Both of us knew if I gave into the urge to wipe him out, my ass would be back behind bars faster than I could kiss Shea goodbye one last time.
My gut told me that’s exactly what he wanted.
I turned over the ignition. The engine rumbled deep, almost as deep as the questions and anger that rattled me to the core.
Twilight was already taking hold of the smoggy Los Angeles sky as I pulled onto the congested street. What seemed like an unending train of cars fought to make their way home, me right in the middle of it, wondering just where home was.
By the time I was driving up the road to the place I shared with the guys, the sun was dipping below the horizon. The massive house in the Hills was tucked and hidden away behind tall, dense trees and lush vegetation, Hollywood stretched out below. Cars lined the street and filled up our drive.
Shit.
Last thing I needed was a houseful of people I didn’t want to see. All I wanted was to talk to my baby brother then crawl through a phone to get to Shea.
But today was our last day in L.A. before we hit the road tomorrow, the guys taking one last day to relax and unwind, one last day of freedom before it was constant road, city, and stage for the next four weeks.
None of my crew had gone to my court hearing because it was supposed to be routine. But nothin’ about what transpired this afternoon felt routine. I felt agitated and disturbed.
Hatin’ Jennings.
Hatin’ the fact he was again spouting shit about Mark and Austin.
Hatin’ that my girls were alone in Savannah and vulnerable.
I squeezed my truck into the drive and parked where I could, killed the engine, hurried up the walk. I threw open the double-doors.
Inside, the house was jammed full of people. A lot of the faces I knew. Others were strangers, no doubt a slew of friends of friends of friends. Ash and Lyrik always took it upon themselves to welcome in every dirt bag in the city.
They loved this shit—people packed wall to wall—the two of them always out looking for a good time, the faked-out chicks all too eager to give it to them.
Did it make me a prick that not so long ago I loved this shit, too, and now I wanted to throw everyone’s asses to the curb?
No question, I loved all the guys. They were my brothers. There for me through everything. I mean, with all the shit with Kallie going down, that bogus trial they had to sit in on—I couldn’t thank any of them enough.
They’d rallied.
Supported me when I needed them most.
Stepped up and acted like men when they preferred to stay firmly in the realm of juvenile delinquent. Not that I had the right to say much about that. God knew my ass was just as guilty, every chance I got dipping my toes in a murky vat of sin.
But I couldn’t escape the feeling I was outgrowing this.
Images of Shea and Kallie swirled through my mind.
Some things just meant more.
Looking for Ash, I worked my way through the groups mingling around the oversized living room overlooking the sprawling city below, a twinkle of lights as far as the eye could see. Beyond the wall of sliding glass doors was the pool, water making a slow transition from blue to purple to pink and back again. Overeager women hung around it with cocktail glasses dripping from their fingers, doing more of that schmoozing that ensured my gag reflex was indeed intact.
Ash was hanging out just inside where those doors sat, throwing back a shot. Katrina, a chick who’d made her rounds through the band one too many times, was tacked to his side like a three-day itch.
“Ash,” I said, not able to contain some of the irritation from bleeding through.
He paid no mind I was annoyed.
“Baz, dude, it’s about damned time you got here. Karl Fitzgerald has been waiting for you in your office for the last…like thirty minutes. He showed up stating he wants a…” Ash lifted both his hands in the air, shot glass still clasped in one hand as he air quoted, “‘word’ with you. Talk about a fuckin’ buzz kill. Here I am, entertaining all these beautiful ladies.”
He stretched his tattooed arms out wide, like if given the chance, he’d take every last one of them. Asshole probably would. No question, they’d all come running.
“Doorbell rang and here I’m thinking I’m going to open it to another gorgeous girl, and there stood that slimy bastard, asking for you. Almost shut the door in his face, but I wasn’t so sure how well that reception would be accepted. Figured it was time to play nice with the money-man. I’ll leave the getting us in hot water up to you.”
He shot me a wink, and I cut off my laughter. God, Ash was nothing but outrageous.
But he sure as shit got that much right.
Slimy bastard asking for a word.
That’s the way the Mylton Records CEO always staged himself, showing up in moments when we were least expecting him, ready to assert whatever control he wanted over us. Sometimes I wished they’d have just cut us free back when the assault charges were hanging over my head.
But thinking like that? That was no less than a betrayal to my crew. A disregard to the blood and sweat and fucking turmoil we’d trudged through to get here.
Disrespect to Mark.
I owed all of them my loyalty.
“Thanks, man,” I told him. “I’ll see what he wants.”
He gave me a salute. “Not a problem.”
I turned back into the crowd, Ash’s amused voice hitting me from behind. “Kiss some ass for me.”
“Not a chance,” I hollered back, shaking my head as I shouldered through the crowd, sending out a few hellos to people I knew and diligently avoiding those I didn’t, because I was in no mood to be making friends. Especially those of the female orientation.
Fuck, Shea was the best. A girl unlike any I’d ever met. Sure, she’d shown a couple flashes of jealousy, which was hotter than all hell the way she wanted me only for herself. But even sexier than that was the astonishing faith she placed in me, the way she sent me off to live the life I love.
Music.
She knew that’s where I was free. What I was created to do.
Even though leaving her and Kallie behind was the most excruciating thing I’d ever had to do.
Damn, I missed them.
Was pretty sure these withdrawals I was feeling were more brutal than any drug I’d ever had to kick. Every night I crawled into my bed alone and questioned that decision, wondering again just how much longer I could go on living this life when I was just as equally being called to live another.
I slipped down the hall and passed by the den currently playing host to depravity.
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, baby.
I cringed, doing my best to ignore the spectacle, and entered through the very last door.
Karl Fitzgerald sat behind my desk with his shiny dress shoe propped up on it like he owned it.
He angled himself to stand when I entered, extending that greedy palm my way. “Well, Mr. Stone, I hear congratulations are in order.”
Reluctantly, I shook it. “I suppose they are.”
“You did well to get Martin Jennings out of your life.”
I curbed a sarcastic snort. Right. As if Jennings wouldn’t just keep coming back. Making Shea’s life hell any way he could. It was like I could smell it. Feel it coming in the distance. A tremor of malice rippling through uneven air.
Considering Fitzgerald was in my chair, I plopped into one of the plush chairs facing the desk and hooked an ankle over my knee, going for casual while I ignored the unease his presence sent sliding over me.
Obviously, this meeting wasn’t anywhere near over.
I rocked back.
Waiting.
Challenging him with my stare.
Because I could feel he had just a little more bullshit to throw my way. You’d think I’d had enough of it today.
“Is Sunder prepared for this tour and prepared to go into the studio as scheduled in four weeks?” The man minced no words.
“Yeah, of course,” I said with a casual lift of my shoulder.
“Good…good.” He nodded, straightened his tie before he sat forward. “You know we need you guys at your best.”
I lifted one hand like I was asking him to continue.
And your point is, asshole?
My expression pretty much felt like a dare.
“And are you sure you’re ready?” he prodded with a telling lift of his brow. “We don’t need to be concerned about this woman you’ve been making a scene with over the last couple of months?”
A scene?
Contention oozed through the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you seem to be easily distracted of late.”
“What I do with my personal life is none of your concern.”
“I think you know that’s not the truth.”
I jerked forward in the chair. Anger that continually boiled just beneath the surface threatened to erupt, and after the confrontation I’d had with Jennings this afternoon, I had little reserve left. I swallowed some of it back and tried to make sense of what he was suggesting.
My eyes narrowed, just as tight as my voice. “First you want me to clean up my act and now you don’t want me to settle down. Just what the hell is it you want from me?”
Bitterness fueled the question, because there wasn’t a place inside me that wanted the answer.
He shrugged like he had the right to utter what came next from his greedy mouth. “We want a brand. The troubled rocker we signed without the jail time. And we sure as hell don’t want a daddy.”
I flew out of my seat, palms flat on the desk as I glared across at him.
“I’m not a fucking brand.”
The chuckle rolling from him pissed me off more.
His eyes gleamed. “Ah, there he is. The one who can’t help find a little trouble. That’s who we’re looking for.”
I gritted my teeth. The words I bit out were hard. “What I’ve got going with Shea is none of your business and it’s not ever gonna be. You want Sunder? Fine. You have us. But when I walk off that stage, you don’t have anything to say about it.”
I pushed off and stormed toward the door. His next statement had my steps faltering at the threshold, but I refused to give him the courtesy of looking back.
“You settle down with her and you’re going to destroy this band. You know that, don’t you?”
Something fierce bristled inside me. The feeling I was being torn in two directions, ripped and shredded and scored.
God, there was no wiping out the desperate desire to play, to create, that feeling of complete freedom I felt on stage when surrounded by my crew. By the crowd. Energy that roared with a reckless peace.
All of it was at war with Shea.
Shea.
Shea.
Shea.
Her energy brighter.
Bolder.
A rending force.
I pushed the rest of the way out of the room and stalked down the hall.
I cursed when my cell started ringing from my pocket. I dug it out, then nearly crushed it in my hold when I saw who it was.
Another fucking leech.
My piece-of-shit father who no doubt was calling to take a little more.
A parasite no different than Karl Fitzgerald.
No different than the slew of assholes presently taking up my house.
Everyone wanted a piece of Sebastian Stone.
I was sick of it.
Silencing the call, I charged down the hall—cutting along the edge of the living room and bypassing as many people as I could—ignoring the rest who shot me titillated looks. I drove through the huge kitchen inhabited by more insipid faces who thought they saw me, but didn’t know me at all.
Surface.
That’s what they wanted.
The desire for the superficial.
The fake.
A brand.
Fuck that.
I flew out the side door that landed me on the terrace at the side of the house. Here, the vegetation was lush and thick. Instant isolation. Hidden behind bushes was a narrow, winding wrought-iron staircase. I went straight for it, ascended two stories of exterior stucco wall, and climbed onto the soaring roof.
Noise filtered up from the party below. But up here it felt as if I were in another world.
An escape.
Guess I shouldn’t have been all that surprised to find Austin hiding away here, too, dark hoodie over his head where he sat close to the edge of the roof, staring over the vast city. A haze billowed around him as he expelled the smoke from his lungs, joint poised between pinched fingers as he prepared to take another drag.
Fuck.
I rubbed a hand over my face to calm myself before I cautioned my feet as I eased toward him. His back stiffened as I approached. Neither of us said anything when I settled down at his side.
Lights stretched on forever, a beautiful mess of city and a stunning mass of souls.
Austin pressed the joint to his lips, pulled it in, held fast before he turned his head to the sky and slowly let it out. He trained his attention back over the urban sea.
“Was wondering where you were,” I finally said.
For the longest time my introduction remained unanswered. I felt the hesitation before he allowed the words to bleed free. “You ever wonder if there’s anyone out there as fucked up as we are?”
Air puffed from my nose, my tone subdued. “Don’t know, Austin. Sometimes it seems like that would be impossible, but I’ve got to figure there’s a ton of people out there so much worse off. People completely alone. Rejected. Not sure there’s a lot of people out there who’ve got what we do.”
I wasn’t talking material shit.
Knew well enough none of that mattered.
“You know,” he said, voice pensive and rough, “you set me up with all of this.”
He waved the hand holding the joint in the air. “Give me everything I could possibly want. And none of it’s ever enough because I have no clue what it is I really want.”
He drove out an incredulous laugh. “All those people down there? And I’ve never felt more alone.”
“That’s because you don’t belong here.”
He laughed again, an acidic sound before he was sucking in another lungful in an effort to soothe all the shit that’d been haunting him his whole life. Anytime we were in L.A., it was always amplified. Always waiting to drag him under in its seedy grips.
“And just where is it I belong?”
“Austin.” It was a plea.
He shook his head. “I know you’re dying to launch into me, Baz.”
He held out the joint, twisting it around to draw attention. “Tell me I shouldn’t be up here indulging. But I just walked in on three chicks doing lines off each other.” He chuckled darkly and spears of fear pierced me. “Pretty sure you’d agree this was the better alternative.”
Fucking Ash.
This shit had to stop. I did my best to keep Austin clear, hide him away from all the garbage that went down, but it was impossible when he was thrown right in the middle of it.
None of us should have been around it.
Not after Austin’s overdose.
Not after losing Mark.
This was nothing less than an insult.
A disregard.
And it wasn’t as if we were welcoming it. It just always came with the territory.
The bullshit side of this life I no longer knew how to handle.
My shoulders bunched. “I’ll kick them out. Get rid of everyone. You don’t need to deal with this shit.”
“But that’s the thing, I need to deal with something, Baz. You don’t get it. All this protecting you do. I’ve got to figure this out for myself or I’m not ever going to make it.”
My hand went to his neck, and I squeezed. “Yes, you are. I’m not going to let you fail.”
He cut his face to me, grey eyes pinned on mine.
Intent.
Open.
Hopeful but resigned to what he didn’t know how to control.
The kid hardly looked like a kid anymore.
Words broke on the emotion. “I have to be the one responsible for not failing, Baz. I’ve failed everyone. Julian. Mom and Dad. You. Mark.” He swallowed hard. “If I’m going to live, then I need to figure out how not to fail myself. You can’t keep saving me.”
Mark.
Fear struck me again, and I tightened my hand that rested on the back of my brother’s neck. “After my court appearance this afternoon, Jennings followed me out to my truck. Started tossing out a bunch of garbage about Shea…about Mark.”
I stated it like the question it was. What the fuck is going on? Do you know?
God, what I wouldn’t give to know why Jennings had been coming off our bus that night. But Austin had sworn he had no clue, that he’d texted for the pills and it was Jennings who’d shown up rather than one of the scumbags the asshole normally had doing his bidding. Woke up the next day in the hospital.
Every inch of him stiffened, and he dropped his attention to the shadows playing from the tree branches against the roof before he finally looked at me. “You’re done, right? You signed the plea?”
“Yeah. It’s done.”
He nodded harshly. “Good. Just stay away from him, Baz. Take Shea and Kallie and get as far away as you can. Put all of that behind you.”
Resentment seeped from my pores. “Don’t think that’s going to be possible.”
We all knew we hadn’t seen the last of Jennings.
Austin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Rocking. Scared. Words a plea. “If I could take it all back, you know I would, right, Baz?”
“Take what back?”
“All of it…all the way back to the day I ruined both our lives. Every mistake I’ve made since. I fucked everything up. Fucked it up bad.”
I gripped his neck again, trying to get him to look at me. “You didn’t ruin our lives, Austin.”
“Stop making excuses for me. I took Julian’s and I’ve done nothing but ruin lives since.”
God, when was this kid gonna see it wasn’t him? That it was me. I’d been the one responsible. The one who was supposed to be watching them instead of fucking around with some girl.
My fault.
But he still couldn’t see it.
My phone started ringing in my pocket again. My heart rate ramped up with the thought of it being Shea, before it went hard when our father’s number again marred the screen.
Damn it.
Austin caught it before I could hide it.
Hurt blazed from his skin as self-deprecating laughter trembled out. “See what I mean? I’m still ruining everything. What’s he want? More money? To keep holding something you didn’t do over your head?”
Shaking his head, he frantically stubbed out the joint and scrambled to stand. “Fuck him and fuck this. I’m going to bed.”
Jaw clenched, I killed the call, listened to the cackle of laughter floating up from below, the retreating of Austin’s footsteps.
That whole feeling I was being torn in two?
I got the sick feeling my world was about to come apart.
Finally I tore myself from my spot and back into the house. I didn’t even consider joining the party. I headed upstairs toward my room.
Lyrik was just starting down as I approached the top of the landing. He cocked me a smirk. “Hiding now, are we?”
“How’d you know?” I tossed him a guilty grin.
He laughed, rubbed tattooed fingers over his chin. “Because I know you. Known you most of my damned life. Whatever you wanted? You were all in. Fighting for it with all you have.” He tilted his head toward the stairs. “And I know you don’t want that anymore. Not all that hard to figure out.”
Unease shifted my feet, and I glanced away before I gained the courage to look back at him.
“Don’t sweat it, man,” he said. “Maybe you didn’t know it, but you were always looking for something. You found it in Shea.”
I stared at one of my oldest friends. Knowing he got me. That just like the rest of the guys, they’d take up my side, no matter what it was I asked of them.
Just like I had to do for them.
He lifted his chin in parting and bounded downstairs.
Feeling emotionally exhausted, I hauled myself to the end of the hall and entered through the double doors set across from Austin’s room. They led into the master suite. Inside, the room was dark and void. More so with the party playing on from below.
Thank God it was Monday and Shea was off. I fell into the center of my bed, pulling my phone from my jeans pocket. I dialed my girl.
It took her a couple of rings to answer.
“Sebastian.”
Relief hit me hard when I heard that sweet, seductive voice come across the line. My spirit did some crazy thing, something physical, a whole-body tremble that started from within.
“Shea, baby, miss you so bad.”
A soft giggle rolled from her. “I think these have been the longest five days of my life.” Her voice quieted. “And we’re just getting started.”
She was right. The coming four weeks would be excruciating.
“It’ll go by fast,” I promised.
“Says the guy who’s going to be out on the road in front of his fans night after night with endless parties to keep him entertained, while he leaves his girlfriend bored out of her mind and alone all the way across the country.”
It was a sulk filled with pure tease. I could picture those full lips pulling into a sultry pout, and I tried to stop my thoughts from rushing south, right along with my blood.
Laughing lightly, I rolled onto my side. “Hardly. After being on that bus for a few days, I’ll probably be hitchhiking my way back to you. I’ll be riding shotgun in some big rig, giving him a sob story about my girl I left behind and how I have to make it back to her.”
“Mmm…I like the sound of that. Just watch out for the creepers.”
A warm chuckle flowed from my lips. “Nothin’ to worry about, baby. Don’t you think I look like I can take care of myself?”
She giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you can. I have seen you in action before. Unless someone has a death wish, no one is going to stand in your way.”
I could almost see the roll of her eyes, before an edge of seriousness wove into her tone. “So…how did everything go today? You’re finished?”
“I’m done.” Tried to keep it out, but I knew she didn’t miss the shot of anger that found its way into my answer.
She wavered, before she whispered, “Was Martin there?”
I pushed out a strained sigh. “Yeah. He was there.”
“And...?” she prodded when I didn’t divulge more details.
I roughed a hand down my face, not wanting to get into it, wishing I could erase the conversation from my head. Really, I wished I could erase the conversation from my reality. “And he’s still an asshole. Followed me out to my car, started talking all kinds of bullshit about you and my family. Basically he said he’s just gettin’ started.”
From across the distance, I could almost see the expression on my girl’s face. The worry and fear she felt every time Jennings was mentioned. The way she wished she could erase it, too.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured.
“No, don’t say that. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. This…we’re doing this together, whatever may come. Until then, we can’t give him any part of us. Any of our time or our thoughts or our energy. I refuse to give him any more.”
God, she was a fucking miracle. A positive light shining bright, bright, bright.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. What Jennings had said about her mom was nagging at my consciousness, every part of me needing to know more. I got the phone as close to my ear as I could, wishing there was a way it could get me closer. My voice went tender, because fuck, this girl eclipsed all my hard.
“Tell me a story, Shea from Savannah.”