Chapter Seventeen
“Avery”
Chrissie and Alan are no longer on the front stoop by the time I rally enough to climb from the car. As I walk up the steps to the door, my insides are jumping. I haven’t been inside this house since I was eight, I don’t remember any details, and this time I’m curious about where Ethan was raised.
I don’t have much of a relationship with his parents beyond what happens in casual passing backstage. They’ve popped in during the tour to see their sons, they’ve been kind to me, but the truth is I’m a meaningless player on the fringe of their lives. A small-time blogger trying to make it big in the highly competitive music industry, though quite a few bands credit my mentioning them on my blog for getting them signed. But that all pales being here, and my own insignificance is pushed front and center in my mind the second I pass through the front door.
Holy cow.
You’re not in Kansas anymore, Avery.
Hell, this isn’t even Newport Beach, the affluent coastal community I was raised in.
The entry hall is a giant marble-tiled, high-ceilinged space that could have gobbled up my parents’ house. It’s that large and austere. Pristine white walls are covered with art and so much memorabilia marking the history of this iconic rocker couple that they would keep any music fiend fascinated for eternity. At least it would keep me fascinated; I could stay in this room forever.
My gaze rapidly darts around. Where the heck did they go? It’s a little frightening being in here alone, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Am I to follow or leave them alone until I’m sent for? Alan did say Chrissie would want to speak to me and that’s why he had me come with him to the house.
All right, I guess I have to wing it on my own. I need to first get the discussion with Chrissie out of the way—that’s going to be rough no matter how it unfolds—find a computer to send the content of the flash to my daddy Sky, then find Ethan to try to salvage things with him. Game plan in place, and I’m feeling less anxious. Now how do I find Chrissie?
There’s a double stairwell on the far side, and a step-down formal living room on the left, and in the other direction…I don’t peek where that goes because I hear voices on the main floor deep from within the house.
Following the sound, I make my way down the maze of hallways to the back of the house to another giant open space before a wall of glass revealing the rolling acres out back and then the ocean.
Pausing mid-step, my stomach flips. Jeez, it’s all of them. The entire family is here—sisters Kaley, Krystal, and Khloe, and the older girls’ husbands, Bobby and Jacob—huddled around the petite figure of their mother curled up in the center of one of the sofas.
My heart clenches at the picture Chrissie makes. She looks worried and afraid, and by the puffiness of her eyes, she’s cried more than her share of tears tonight. Not that I blame her; by all accounts she’s a devoted and excellent mother, and Eric’s predicament would hit hard any mother.
“Mom, you’ve got to listen to Pop this time,” Kaley says vehemently, clutching her mom’s hands. “What we’ve been doing hasn’t been working. I don’t like deceiving the twins, but Dad’s right. There’s no other way. Not anymore. And that’s Eric’s fault, not ours.”
My lids shoot wide. The entire family is in on the lie fed to Eric. All of them—and me—except Ethan. I’m not sure how I feel about being pulled in further to deceiving Ethan when I want nothing more than to open my heart to him.
Chrissie runs her fingers through her blond hair, and her disoriented-looking gaze searches the room. “Where’s Ethan?” My heart jumps from the panic in her voice. “I told you, Alan. I want the other four children here tonight. You promised me they would be.”
“Mom, we’ve already told you he’s on his way,” Krystal assures her, slipping an arm around her. “Dillon is bringing Ethan here. He’ll be here soon, Mom. And we’re all going to stay here with you until you’re of a mind for us to leave.”
Relief whispers through my tension-racked limbs. Ethan’s going to be here.
“I give it a day,” Kaley teases, “with all the grandkids tearing up the house before you tell us it’s time to go.”
The family laughs in that strange way people manage humor in sadness. Movement captures my attention. “Avery, come here, love,” Alan states, and all eyes in the room fix on me.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if I should wait,” I mutter quickly.
Kaley springs to her feet. “If you wait for one of us to have manners you’ll wait forever.” Tall, stunningly beautiful with her father’s looks from head to toe, she gives me a brilliant smile as she closes in.
“Kaley’s World, right? I’m a big fan. You’re the reason I decided to become a blogger.”
“I’m a fan of the Roaming Redhead,” she replies, and the compliment makes me blush. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you—from Ethan.”
“We’ve all heard a lot about you from Ethan,” Khloe announces dramatically, her blue eyes twinkling, causing everyone to laugh and my cheek color to darken since there isn’t a way to misinterpret how they meant that.
Kaley gives her sister a sharp look. “That’s Khloe, in case you haven’t guessed, and my sister has no filter whatsoever. Lets rip every thought in her head.”
“Just like Pop,” Krystal pipes up.
“No, just like Kaley,” Khloe counters.
The closeness of this family surrounds me like a physical entity and their interaction is so strikingly normal given who they are that it knocks me off-kilter again. I’m not sure what I expected them to be like. Knowing Eric created one picture in my head and Ethan a different one, but they hold the feel of my family. Noisy, spirited, fun-loving togetherness through good times and bad, with a hint of what the British would call stiff upper lip.
“You’re the last one who saw my son before he left with Jamal, aren’t you?”
That question causes me to whip my head in the direction of Chrissie. “Yes.”
Her golden brows furrow. “I haven’t seen Eric for months. I only want to know one thing. Is he in as terrible shape as his father says he is?”
Oh Christ. Things change so quickly here it’s hard to keep up—from lighthearted to deadly serious in a blink—and the ravished blue eyes of a mother are studying me.
I slowly step toward Chrissie to give me time to determine how I should answer that, then an image of how Eric looked in the car flashes in my head. “He’s the worst I’ve ever seen him. In a very bad way. I don’t know what I’d do if he were my son. I only know I’d do everything and anything I could.”
Her lower lip quivers as she nods. “And what about Ethan? Do you think if he knows where his brother is, he’ll follow after him and try to help him?”
I debate how to answer that, feeling the heavy pressure of stares on me, but only for a millisecond. “Yes. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his brother. You’ve raised a man who’s loyal and loving.”
A slight smile claims her lips. “Sounds like you know Ethan pretty well.”
The color on my cheeks burns hotter. “We’re very good friends, but even if we weren’t, it’s impossible to miss the kind of man he is.”
Chrissie lets out a ragged breath. “Then Alan’s right. Eric’s not left us a choice in this. Neither has Ethan.” She motions for Kaley. “Baby girl, show Avery the bedroom we’ve put her things in.”
Bedroom? “Wait? My things?” I say, confused.
Chrissie’s blue eyes widen. “I thought Alan explained why he brought you home with him.”
“To talk to you, I thought.”
She glares at her husband, and Alan stares back at her for several seconds, expression one of silent communication, before he calmly turns toward me.
“You’re a little bit more involved in what we’re doing than that, Avery. For this intervention to work to its fullest benefit, we need to continue for a while as if there really is a threat to our family because of the trouble Eric’s in. All of us living here in crisis mode. We do from time to time when there are situations that warrant it. And since you were the last one with Eric and part of the events in Houston, it would seem odd for us not to extend our protection and home to you. To make this believable, we must do what we always do as though there is danger from Rochelle and Gray. That means you staying here with the rest of our family until enough time has passed for Eric to get on his feet on his own and to tell Ethan the truth. Anything short of that Ethan will see through, and this is as much about helping him as it is Eric.”
“What?” Like that, no discussion, they’ve moved me in. And how the hell did they get my things? Did they send someone to Emmy’s and did my sister hand them over? “I can’t live here. I have a family. A job. A life. I can’t just put that on hold.”
“And we’re not asking you to,” Alan responds, amused. “Just to put up with us for a while. You can come and go as you please so long as you travel with the bodyguards, and not tell anything to Ethan until it’s time to. The tour’s over. You’re off the road. There are serious questions about if there’s a band anymore, which means most likely your job is over. Seems to me that this sudden change comes at a perfect time for a girl who might be unemployed and need to replot her future.”
Oh shit. Not once have I given a thought to what Eric being gone might mean to my circumstance or even my job. But, damn, Alan’s right. I’m soon to be out of work, practically broke, and living with my dads again.
As much as I adore my fathers, that’s not happening; I’m not moving home. Emmy is only a short-term solution at best. She’ll be itching to get me out of her guest room inside a month. She’s so intense about having her own space. And I don’t have an apartment of my own because I’ve never needed one. I’m either on the road or squatting at my sister’s.
Shoot, I’m not even sure I have enough money to get my own place. I’ve not checked my bank app, but I’m positive it’s not at sign-a-lease level. Blogging doesn’t pay well, not even when you’re successful at it.
Well, this is just awful. Somehow without my knowing it, my life went into the crapper with Eric’s. But to move in here with them?
I stare at Alan. “How do I explain it to my family? Me living here? They’re going to want answers, and I’m assuming telling them the truth isn’t an option.”
Alan rubs his chin with a finger, his brow crinkled thoughtfully. “You’re writing a book, aren’t you? About famous rockers, blogging, and your experiences.”
My lids shoot open to their fullest. How does he know that? I haven’t even told Ethan about this.
Kaley flashes a bright smile. “I would consider my parents famous rockers and most definitely an experience.”
“It’s logical that you should want to write about us,” Alan states graciously. “What’s your blog tagline? ‘Embedded and uncensored.’ Uncensored, we should be at least a chapter or two. Our thank you for you being a good friend to Eric. We’d be pleased to have you staying with us, and you could write full time here. Get that manuscript done faster. Practically a win/win for everyone.”
“Except that part about us being uncensored, Dad,” Khloe protests in impish horror with a shudder. “That one requires a family vote.”
Kaley and Bobby choke back laughter as Alan arches a brow at his youngest child. As they converse among themselves I allow myself a few moments to process this.
The offer blows me away. Solutions like this don’t drop into a girl’s lap every day. What music blogger wouldn’t want open access to write about Alan Manzone and Chrissie Parker? I’d be nuts to pass on their offer.
The more I think, the fewer reasons there are to resist, and then another tidbit breaks free: the entire family will be staying here for a while and that includes Ethan.
Oh no, what’s he going to think about my moving in with his parents? That absolutely crosses the line of just-starting-to-date territory. It smacks of stalker-girl behavior—something Emmy would do and use to her advantage without a pause—but nothing turns off a guy faster than crowding too soon. It could kill our relationship before it begins.
With all that in mind, it doesn’t really seem like there’s a way to refuse them, especially with how they’re staring at me. I gnaw on my lower lip. “I don’t see as I have a choice. I’m in this whether I want to be or not.”
Alan nods. “Smart and practical girl. Kaley, take Avery to her room. And the rest of you, go somewhere else to do what you do. It’s been an exhausting day. I need sleep. Get out of our bedroom.”
Oh fuck, their bedroom.
Did I crash a family meeting in Alan Manzone’s bedroom?
I thought this was the family room, and then my gaze shifts to the adjoining space and I see a massive king-sized bed invitingly positioned with a fireplace on one wall and a view of the ocean through the other.
Kaley crosses the room to me. “Come on, Avery.” She motions me ahead into the hallway and then closes the door.