Now
We’re walking in the back door, after picking up the girls, when it hits me like a ton of bricks. Today has been the longest day of my existence. We ate dinner with the kids at the Mad House, so it’s nearly ten when we finally make it home. I feel ragged to the bone and dead tired. My shoulders slump and my eyelids grow heavy as a yawn forces its way out of me.
The smell of wet paint permeates the air, though Bridget and her workers cleared out of here over an hour ago. Passing all the paparazzi outside the gate when we got home, it dawned on me that it has been less than twenty-four hours since the media was stirred up by that video and the more graphic version showed up on my laptop. I woke up this morning not trusting Dex and finished the day introducing him to the world that encompasses my deepest darkest secrets. And Chloe and Evan are gone.
It’s only been a handful of hours, but it feels like it’s been years. I wish I could sit down with Evan and just talk to him, which is funny, I know. Normally he’d have to pry it out of me, but now that he’s not here, I just want to tell him everything that has happened.
I press my hands on the counter, gripping it tight so the squared bottom edge bites into my skin. I can hear the girls talking about their day, but none of it’s registering.
“Ugh, what is that smell?” Cat asks, walking past me to the entrance of the dining area.
Cora and Audra follow in her wake, but they all freeze at the doorway. I’ve a momentary panic attack, thinking that the vandalism is still there. I eat up the distance in a few short strides.
“Holy shit, that is awesome!” Audra exclaims.
“Whoa, when did you decide to redecorate?” Cora asks.
I stare at my newly painted dining room in shock and maybe a little awe. Leave it to Bridget to take creative license with my house. I take in the freshly painted wall covered in bright graffiti art. There are guitars, skates, music notes… It’s all very… me.
My shoulders heave in silent laughter. I’m rendered wordless, unable to articulate a reaction. My brain’s just too tired to process any thought or feeling I might have about it. Dex massages my shoulders as another yawn cracks my jaw.
He leans down to my ear. “You should go to bed. I’ll get the girls down for the night and join you in a few minutes.”
I stiffen at that but then force myself to relax. He didn’t say anything inappropriate. It’s just a force of habit to keep that part of my life away from the girls. I know they heard it by the look of shock on their faces as they turn to me. I nod and turn to Dex, going up on my toes to kiss his cheek.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I’m beat.”
I turn to the girls and hug each one, including Audra, kissing them on the cheek and telling them good night. I hear Dex telling them that we decided the dining room needed a change this afternoon as he ushers them up the stairs. I head to my room. I strip off my clothes while brushing my teeth. I’m too tired to be bothered with anything else.
My eyes close as soon as my head hits the pillow.
The loud screeching alarm rings in my ear long after it stops. I wander through the dark hallway, guided by the thin, pale strips of moonlight that fall across the floor through the windows of various rooms that line the hall. I hear a grunt and look up. He’s standing there, highlighted by the moonlight, blood soaking his shirt from the shoulders down. His lifeless eyes pin me into place.
“You,” he grates in a hoarse, raspy whisper that seems too loud in the quiet between us. “You did this to me.”
Tears streak down my face. “I’m sorry,” I plead.
“That’s not good enough. You have to pay,” he says as he moves toward me without taking a step. The moonlight follows him, so I see his face as it distorts into an angry mask. His hands wrap around my throat. I can’t breathe. I claw at his hands, trying to scream, but the pressure on my throat is enough to keep my silence.
I sit up, gasping for breath and choking. I cough loudly, nearly gagging myself. Dex’s hand rubs over my back, soothing.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he coos.
A sob racks my body. “It’s never gonna be enough. I can’t ever make it right.”
“Come here,” he says, tugging me down and tucking me into his side.
My head rests on his shoulder as he pushes my hair back from my face with one hand while the other one traces a line from my shoulder down to my wrist and back up again.
“We can’t ever make it right, but we can make better choices going forward,” Dex says in a soothing voice. “Try to be the best version of ourselves and make it better. The past can never be rewritten, but we can learn from it and move forward.”
“How?” I ask.
“You’re already doing it. It floors me how you can’t see the mark you leave on everything around you. So many people love you because you give so much of yourself to make them happy. You’ve made it my mission in life to make you see that and make you happy.”
I spread my hand out on his bare chest and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “You only say that because you don’t know what you don’t know.”
“You could tell me, but I’m gonna be honest with you.” His chest rises under my hand with a deep breath. “I think you take on too much responsibility with this. Sometimes, murders happen, and it’s no one’s fault but the one who committed the homicide.”
I laugh darkly. “I almost forgot that you’re a cop for a minute there.”
“What does that mean?” he asks.
“You know that whole murder bit’s bullshit? He wasn’t murdered. I tried telling them that, but no one wants to believe me.” I sit up, shaking my head. “No, they just want to make money off it. The news gets ratings, the police get a major case, paid interviews are offered… It was all for spectacle, and it still is. He killed himself because of what I did. It’s really quite simple. And either way you look at it, he wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me.”
“I did read your file, so I know that you feel that way. I just don’t understand why,” Dex says somberly.
“Why do you think it’s murder?” I ask.
“Because the forensics—” Dex starts.
I interrupt. “Right, because someone told you. I was there, and I’m telling you something different. I studied their evidence. Bridget was allowed discovery when they were pressing charges against me, and that’s the thing. There’s no real evidence to suggest murder. His prints were the only ones on the gun. Ballistics put the shots at point-blank range. Even the angles… I may be grieving, but I’m not stupid. And this, the fact that I’ve gotta explain it to you… I’m trying hard to trust you. I want to believe you, but here, you’re actin’ like one of them.
“And it’s clear that a line has been drawn. Someone wants me locked away. They wouldn’t have inserted you into my life to find evidence otherwise. They just don’t have anything to make it stick. But it’s only a matter of time. If they can’t find it, someone is going to make something up. Even Bridget’s seen convictions built on shitty evidence. So, you’re either on their side or mine.”
He sits up again, clasping my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “I’m on your side.”
I search his eyes. I see nothing but sincerity and love.
“I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt,” I say. “Because, right now, everything inside of me is screaming to send the girls away. Someone is coming. Something is going to happen before all this is over, and I can’t imagine that it’s going to be a tea party. Bridget, Holly, Dawn, Ruby… they’re all big girls and can choose to stick around, but it’s my job to ensure the girls’ safety—”
“I agree,” Dex says.
My jaw drops. “What?”
“I was going to talk to you about it in the morning, but I think they should go to their grandparents’ for a while.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“When we were at your friend’s office and she showed us the hummingbird she found in the binary code, it was bothering me because I felt like I’d seen it before. And I remembered this—” He gets up and crosses the room to where his clothes lay on a chair. He pulls out a piece of paper from his jeans pocket and hands it to me. “When we first met, this was sitting on the chair in my station, just before you showed up.”
I unfold the paper, and my stomach drops like I swallowed a sack of lead weights. It’s a sketch of a hummingbird. And now that I’m looking at it, I do remember him asking the other artists if it belonged to them. So it definitely has something to do with me. Not just Chloe. I take a deep breath because I just don’t know what this all means.
“I had seen something like this before through work. When we were at the Mad House—you and Tina were finishing up dinner—I asked your friend Monk to use his computer, and we found it.”
“Found what?”
“It’s a symbol a few Mexican cartels use when going to war. Mostly ones in central Mexico that have a heavy Aztec influence. Do you have any connection to Mexican cartels?”
I raise a brow like that should even be a question. “No. Why would I?”
“I don’t know for sure if it’s a connection—it’s a bird. It could mean anything. I was going to ask if it was your favorite bird, but you already dealt with a lot of news yesterday. I just figured this could wait until morning.”
“Well, you figured wrong. No, hummingbirds aren’t my favorite bird. It really doesn’t mean anything to me. And granted, the stalker’s already twisted enough to use my favorite flower, but that doesn’t explain the message. The fact that there were seven dead birds. Or that it was in Chloe’s WitSec file hack… You should’ve told me. This isn’t good. We don’t know what we’re up against and we need to get the girls out of here. Now.”
“So you could do what, exactly? Ship the girls off to their grandparents’ in the middle of the night—”
“Yes!”
“—causing them to stress and worry about the danger their mother may be in? They may still be kids, Maddie, but they’re almost thirteen. You can’t hide this from them completely. You have to think about how it’s going to affect them.”
He’s right. But I don’t want to admit it as I pace the floor. I want to slap him down for daring to tell me how to handle my kids. I stop to look at him. What is it about him that triggers this fight-or-flight response in me? I’m either running away from him or fighting him about everything. It had been like that since the moment I met him. Like he could see right through me, and it made me want to hide or kick his ass, but it was more than that. He scared me because the way he affected me was so different, so much more. What does that say about everything that has happened?
Not wanting to think about that, I shift my attention back to the current situation. I’m being unreasonable. Dex was trying to help, and I can’t find fault in that. And with that thought, the fight leaves me. My shoulders drop, and I stop pacing.
A tiny smile plays at his lips. Not enough to seem like gloating, but enough that I know he’s happy with my response.
“Fine, whatever,” I grumble. “How do you want to do this, then?”
He looks over at the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Well, seeing that it’s three in the morning, we should go back to sleep.” He pats the bed next to him with a yawn. “I don’t think you realize what your naked pacing is doing to me.”
I finally focus on myself, only now realizing in my tiredness earlier that I forgot to put on a nightgown. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips as he adjusts himself under the covers. I answer with a yawn as I crawl back in bed.
“I don’t normally sleep naked,” I add.
“I could get used to this,” he says, pulling me to his side. His hand runs down my back, squeezing my ass. “I think I might insist that it be a regular habit when I’m here.”
I propped my chin on his chest. He gives me a sleepy smile, flashing those adorable dimples. I lift up the blanket and peer at his flannel pants with a frown.
“What if I insist the same?” I ask.
His eyebrows rise. “I think that can be arranged because I do normally sleep naked. I just didn’t want to freak you out if you weren’t expecting me to be here when you woke up.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I huff a laugh. “But I really don’t mind.”
“Hush, woman. Go to sleep. Morning will come soon enough.”
“How am I supposed to molest you in your sleep if you keep your chastity pants on?”
“Patience, Maddie. All good things come with time,” he murmurs as his eyes drift shut.
I rest my head on his shoulder and listen to his heart beating steadily as his breathing evens out. I can’t imagine that I’ll be able to get back to sleep, but I close my eyes and think about what tomorrow will entail. There’s already a lot on the agenda, but just thinking about getting back in the ring tomorrow night makes the muscles in my shoulders relax further.
Then
I was skating around the track as fast as my wheels would roll. We were doing qualifying tests for the upcoming season. Bonnie was timing us two at a time. I was currently in the lead against Bridget, but she was gaining on me, the rest of the team cheering us on. On the last lap, my eye caught on a guy in the visitor area, snapping pictures of us. I was distracted, and Bridget zoomed past me just as we crossed the finish line.
It wasn’t a race, but I was pissed at myself for not winning. I put my hands on my knees and let my speed slow to cool down.
“I can’t believe I caught you,” Bridget said as I rolled up beside her.
“I was distracted by that,” I said, motioning to the guy in the visitor area. Practices were closed—family and friends could drop by, but this guy I’d never seen before. “You know who he is?”
“No,” Bridget answered. “Never seen him.”
Bonnie, facing the other direction, had already started another set of girls. No one but Bridget and I had noticed him. Maybe because I had a stalker, his presence bothered me more than the others. Call it morbid curiosity, but I skated over to the visitor area.
“Are you here for someone?” I asked, tilting my head.
He lowered his camera to look at me. “Are you the one from the band Stateside, Laine Dobransky?”
“Yes,” I answered and froze.
How did he know about Stateside? The album had been out for months, but our sales were abysmal, due to lack of promotion. I scrutinized him from head to toe. He was average-looking, wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. A slight gut, but not too prominent. He didn’t look familiar at all.
“Is it true that you’re engaged to your bandmate, Jared Wilson?”
“Yes, but—” I held up a hand in front of me as he snapped another picture.
“And that he’s currently overseas in Afghanistan?”
“Listen, just who the fuck are you?” I demanded. “Why are you asking about this?”
“I’m sorry,” he said as a blush stole over his cheeks. “I sometimes let the story get away with me. I’m Josh Banks from the Austin Chronicle.” He offered his hand.
“Story?” My mouth opened and closed like a fish as I tried to grasp hold of the situation. “Why are you doing a story on me?”
His hand dropped as he realized I wasn’t shaking it. “You don’t know?”
“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about. How do you know about my band?”
“Oh, two days ago, someone created an online video using your song ‘Coming Home’ with a montage of soldiers returning from the war. I figured you would know since they had to purchase the rights. It went viral. But it blew up on the global stage when someone found out that the singers are actually separated by deployment right now. Your song’s a hit, but you and your fiancé are the bigger story. Do you mind answering some questions?”
“I’m sorry. She’s not available for comment at this time. You’re not allowed in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Bridget said from my right, startling me.
She grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Ruby, Sloane, Dawn, and Holly stood behind me but skated around to form a wall between the reporter and us.
“As your lawyer, I’m advising you not to talk to anyone.” Her face was plastered with a huge grin.
“My lawyer?” I asked, my brows creasing in confusion.
She shrugged. “I think you’re ready to hire me.”
“But you’re a criminal lawyer.” My brain was fried from the bombardment of news.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I went to school to do entertainment law, but it’s surprisingly hard to break into—especially around here. Now, I have an in. And you’re going to love having me working for you.”
“I am?” I sort of laughed; I was trying hard not to cry.
“Of course you are,” she cooed, patting my head.
“Okay,” I said skeptically, “but I don’t have any money to pay you.”
“I bet you do. When was the last time you checked your album sales?”
“Not for weeks.” I shook my head. “There hasn’t been any activity on it.”
“Well, you should check.” She grabbed her bag off the floor from the center of the track and tossed her phone at me. “Go ahead. I have a feeling about this.”
I logged into my account with our distribution company, and my wheels flew out from under me. I landed flat on my ass. The girls gathered around me, curious as to what was going on. I’d never seen so many digits in all my life. Well, not associated with my name. Holy fuck. I’m rich.
Bridget grabbed the phone from me. “Looks like I’m getting a raise.” She laughed loudly.
“This is unreal. How could this happen?” I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around it.
The door slammed shut to the practice area. Asher and Nate were coming toward me, both wearing matching grim expressions.
“I see you already found out,” Asher said as he approached. “I came to make sure you get home okay. Have you looked outside recently?”
“No,” I answered.
“It’s a circus out there,” Nate said. “Word got out that you were here.”
“Holy shit, you’re famous,” Holly said, gripping my hand. Sloane settled on my other side.
“That can’t be true,” I denied.
“Look.” Ruby held up her phone, and the video the reporter mentioned was on her Facebook feed. She pushed Play, and our song started filling the space.
“Your picture is on the news, too,” Carly, one of my other teammates, said, walking up beside me.
She was showing me a local news clip from her feed. The sound was off, but the local reporter was talking, and a picture of Jared and me from high school filled the space next to his head. What in the actual fuck? This isn’t how you made it, right? We hadn’t even toured or even played a gig.
Nate’s voice pulled me from my reverie. “Maddie, I think we should head to your house. We have some calls to make. You need to arrange for a publicist and a lawyer—”
“She’s got one of those,” Bridget said with a grin. “Bonnie, I think we’re going to cut out of here early to go handle some stuff. Cool?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bonnie said, looking as shocked as I felt.
“I’m coming with,” Holly said. “Moral support.”
“Me, too,” Sloane added. “She needs her stylist and best friend.” She grinned at me.
Asher reached down to help me off the floor. “You ready for this? There’s a lot of people outside. We just gotta make it to your car. I’m with you through this. Okay?”
“How are you dealing with this? Did you see our numbers?” I asked.
“I’m fine.” He tilted his head. “But I’m not the one they’re after for a personal story. I get to enjoy the dough rolling in, but I don’t get the shit that comes with it. Nobody’s concerned about the drummer.” He smiled.
“Yet,” Bridget stated. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. Fame can turn on anyone.”
I took my skates off and packed up my stuff. I walked toward the door, Bridget, Holly, Sloane, Asher, and Nate in tow. At the front door, I got my first look outside. They weren’t kidding. There was a crowd of people with cameras and microphones, standing around waiting. It was surreal to think they were there for me.
“We’re coming, too,” Dawn said as she and Ruby rushed to join us. “We’ll run interference.”
Ruby pounded her fist into her hand. “Just another night for me.” She grinned.
Bridget handed me a jacket. “Put this over your head and go straight to your car. Don’t stop. Don’t say anything.”
“This is surreal,” Holly said, echoing my thoughts.
“I wish Jared was here,” I muttered, gripping my keys tightly. Then I opened the door to my new reality.