“So your dad is Richie Sands, huh?” This is it. The information I’ve been tasked to discover. I don’t think it’s the secret my uncle is expecting, and while I have no intention of sharing it with him or anyone else, a new curiosity blooms in its place. The kind in which I have to know everything about this woman in my arms.

Opal worries her lip between her front teeth before meeting my stare. “Yeah, only I didn’t find out until it was too late. I never got to . . . Not that he’d have wanted me in his life anyway.”

“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes harsh and fierce. Her eyes widen at my outburst. “I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t want you in their life. He would have loved you. It’s impossible not to.”

Her eyes shine with wetness and she nods as if my words were exactly what she needed to hear.

My finger trails from her hip, up her ribs to where her tattoo paints her skin. “So, this . . .”

“His words. My mother met him on the road. She traveled with the band for some time. They were lovers. I don’t know why she left, but I suspect she knew she was pregnant with me. They wrote letters. The ones you’ve seen me with. My mama passed on after complications during my birth. But I never knew about the letters or my father until I discovered them a few years ago.” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, but her voice is strong and full of love.

“Opal, I’m so sorry.” I press my lips to her forehead, transferring what comfort I can give. My mind conjures a young Opal, wide green eyes and without a home. The loneliness she must have felt all those years without her parents. No child deserves that kind of pain. My admiration for her grows exponentially. My God, she’s so strong.

She releases a shaky breath and pulls back to find my gaze. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

“But it still hurts. To lose someone, or the idea of something, even if you never had it.” This I understand. Right down to my bones. I may have grown up with every opportunity one could ever want, but my parents weren’t present, not really. Most of my childhood was spent in the company of paid help tasked to look after me. Hell, my own parents would rather disown me than support my dreams because they don’t align with theirs. That’s not unconditional love. They’re nothing like books or movies, and I’ve always coveted that.

“It does.” She nods, a small smile working onto her lips. “I’m just thankful my Grams didn’t have it in her to throw away the letters. Otherwise, I never would have found Lexi. I’d have no one.”

I ask the question even though I suspect the answer. “Where’s your Grams now?”

“In heaven, baking her famous sticky buns.” She laughs, and its equal parts pain and admiration. “Feeding everyone, probably.”

“You’re a lot like her, then.” My fingers can’t help but brush along her jaw. To touch her.

She smiles and it’s so damn beautiful. “I hope so. I miss her.”

“Is that what you want to do? When you’re done playing PA for the famous Trent Donovan?”

“You mean bake?”

“I mean, what do you dream of doing, if you had the choice? I could see you running your own bakery or restaurant. Becoming a chef.”

“That’s not my dream. Don’t get me wrong, I love feeding folks, but not for a career. No, I, well, I-I don’t quite know what I want to do. Did you always want to be the drummer in a rock band?”

“Ever since my eleventh birthday. Yes.”

“What happened on your eleventh birthday?”

“Reckoning by the Grateful Dead. That album changed my life. Until then I hadn’t listened to anything except classical. But that gift, it changed everything. It showed me music was more than a practiced and perfected replication of the past. It was real, living and breathing. Those songs meant something. I suppose most little boys dream of playing in a band, but this was different. I spent all my free time sneaking out to play drums until I got my own set. Then it was sneaking to the basement when my parents were out.”

“They never knew?”

“No. I think part of me understood they’d never approve. While my friends were sneaking pot and opioids, I was sneaking hours on the skins. Pretty lame, huh?” I chuckle. “I hope it doesn’t change your impression of me.”

“Not at all.”

“So, there’s nothing you’d like to do for a career?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I never dreamed of one thing. I have all sorts of stuff I’d like to try, but it takes experience and money and education. I didn’t have much in the way of opportunities. At least not before.”

“Before you discovered you had a famous rock star for a sister.”

She pulls back, and her head shakes adamantly. “It’s not like that, you know? I don’t expect her to provide for me. I don’t want a hand up. I’ll earn my own way, even if it takes a little longer.” There’s a strength in her voice I’ve only begun to witness. Opal is a survivor, and she hasn’t let life beat the goodness from her.

“There’s nothing wrong with paving your own path. It’s better that way. Sweeter.” I can’t stand the space between us anymore. I have to kiss her again. This time when I capture her lips she’s ready for me, and her mouth moves against mine with a purpose and passion I feel in every molecule of my body.

When we break apart she’s smiling. “I think it’s my turn to shower. I can’t very well face everyone when I look—”

“Freshly fucked?” I say and she shoves at my chest.

“I was going to say disheveled, but yes, I believe that works, too.” She reaches for her hair and attempts to smooth down the wild strands, but I stop her.

“Don’t. You’re gorgeous. And I like that no one else has ever seen you this way. That I’m the only one.”

Her cheeks tinge in pink, and she wraps one of the sheets around her chest before pushing off the floor. While she gathers clean clothes and a towel, I take a moment to collect the sheets and blankets from the floor. I don’t bother refolding mine, and throw them back inside my bunk to make later. The others, I stash beneath dirty clothes inside the laundry bin cabinet.

From inside the bathroom I hear the shower spray begin to pour, and Opal’s sultry voice as it lifts with song. I want to join her but first I need to check in with the guys about when they’ll be back. Before I reach my phone, it chirps with an incoming text. Fuck. It’s no surprise who it is.

The Devil: Call me. ASAP.

I glance around and find the furthest corner of the bus to pace. From here I can see anyone approaching the doors, and more importantly, Opal won’t be able to hear. I press call and as soon as the line connects, a surge of anger boils in my belly. “What do you want now?”

His deep chuckle meets my ears. “Aren’t we in a chipper mood?”

“I bailed on the interview. You figure it out.”

“Oh, Leighton. Don’t push me. I push back. And I’m saving your ass, but I won’t hold my breath for a thank you note. The reporter wanted everything. Birthdays and parents’ names. I’m sorry, kid. We weren’t prepared for Drummergate.”

And really, am I mad about missing the interview and the photo shoot? No. Because I haven’t earned it. Besides, if I’d gone, I wouldn’t be here with Opal. We wouldn’t have made love.

“That all?” I pause to listen for the shower, relieved when I hear it still running. “As much as I love our chats, I have an appointment to bleach my asshole that I’d hate to be late for.”

“Smartass,” he mutters and through the line I hear the shuffle of papers as he lowers his tone. “What do you have for me on Opal?”

Everything. Fucking everything.

“I need more time,” I whisper.

“Fuck.” I can picture the deep lines of his scowl. The intensity of his glare. “Give me something here, kid. Otherwise you give me no choice. I’m sure the band would love to know how I acquired their drummer.”

I can’t tell whether he’s baiting me or he’d actually do it. That’s the kicker with him. He’s shrewd enough I don’t put anything past him. The thought is terrifying. If he outed me today, Opal would never speak to me again. I’d lose her for good. “You get off on this? On ruining my life.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “Bold words coming from the guy who blackmailed his way onto the tour.”

“What do you want?”

“Something. Juicier the better.”

I don’t get it. I really don’t understand. “Aren’t you supposed to protect them from this shit, not start it?”

“You know nothing about PR. Spotlight is the spotlight. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

“I think the band would beg to differ.”

His tone is hard and loud through the line. “Talk or you’re out.”

“Fine. Lexi and Trent had an argument today. He never told her about the magazine feature and she was pissed. I’m pretty sure Trent sent her six dozen roses.”

“Hmm . . . That could work. We can spin that. He slept with someone else. Lexi threatened to leave him. Trent groveled with flowers. Thank you.”

Hold up. “But that’s not the truth.”

“The truth is in the eye of the beholder.”

I shake my head, and my temples thrum with tension at his blasé attitude. “If you’re going to make up lies, why ask for my help?”

“Because every bit of gossip you read holds at least an ounce of truth.”

“What about Trent and Lexi?” These are people’s lives he’s fucking with.

“They can handle it. Believe me, if a rumor comes between them, their relationship wasn’t built to survive.”

I can’t believe his heartlessness. And yet I can. For the first time in forever I want to be nothing like my Uncle Bedo when I grow up. “That all? I need to go.”

“What’s the deal with Lexi and Opal? They know each other?”

My spine prickles. I have to protect her secret. I can’t let on about any of it. “How do you mean?”

“Just a rumor. You’re not my only intel. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how close those two are.”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess I just assumed it’s because they have to get along, what with Trent being Opal’s boss and Lexi being his girlfriend.” I pray I lie well enough that he lets it go.

He lets loose a long whistle and when he speaks his voice is full of interest. “You don’t think the three of them are together?”

I know for certain they are not. Yet, I successfully hold in my laugh. Before I can speak he continues rambling.

“Never mind. That’s absurd. I’ve seen the hotties Trent fucked before Lexi, and Opal doesn’t come close. She’s waif-like. No boobs. Too young, for him anyway. Doesn’t have the curves he goes for.”

I clench my jaw at his assessment of her, and my impulse to defend her. To explain how fucking gorgeous she is, not to mention her heart of gold. Instead I go for indifference with a touch of sarcasm. “Yeah, if they were sleeping together it’d be pretty obvious, what with us all sharing a bus.”

“Right. I just can’t figure it out. She seems so oblivious to the industry, but it’s got to be an act.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Don’t enjoy shooting the shit with your uncle?”

I don’t answer him.

“Fine. Good-bye. We’ll talk soon.”

I end the call without returning his sentiment and consider smashing the goddamn phone. It’s useless. He’ll only send me another. Fuck! I need to find a way out of this mess. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll lose everything I want. Not to mention everything I have.