“Daddy, help!”

“No, help me.”

Nick Crandall glanced down at the two blonds clutching the legs of his jeans, one on each side. He set down the knife he was using to chop a tomato for salad for dinner—though he hated fucking tomatoes, but beta-somesuch in them was good for the girls—and hoisted up both of his twins until they were one to a hip. “You gonna help me make tomorrow’s lunch?”

They’d all foraged for themselves for dinner tonight, since their mother, Lila, was at the big Warning Sign show in New York City. Some big event to showcase the new EP and new co-lead singer. Last night, Nick had attended the secret show that coincided with the single dropping. “Headlines” sure as hell fit what was going on in that band. New lead singers to go with the old lead singers, band drama, all kinds of leaks. What the hell, man?

And he’d thought Oblivion had their share of troubles. At least they only had one lead singer.

One Simon was enough for every-damn-one.

But Nick was a good brother, so he’d made sure to attend last night’s secret show to support his sister, Ricki—or Elle, as she preferred to be called now. It was a big night for her, and tonight promised to be even bigger. He’d wished he could be there in New York to see her kill it as she’d killed it last night—damn, his sister was no joke on a guitar, and he didn’t say that lightly—but with Lila traveling with the band as their Ripper Records rep, someone needed to be home with the girls. They always tried to make sure one of them was home with the twins at bare minimum. Neither he nor Lila intended to have their kids raised by nannies.

Even if they were little hellions most of the time.

After a long moment of thought, Charlie nodded vigorously, her peanut butter smeared cheeks spreading in a smile. She’d been into the sandwich cookies again. “Matos.” She pointed at the discarded husk of what used to be a tomato. Maybe. Now it was just a pulpy-looking mass. He sucked at cutting the stupid things.

“Yes, tomatoes,” Nick said, repeating the correct word slowly as Lila had taught him to do. He glanced at his other daughter, currently shoving three fingers in her mouth. “Tomatoes?” he asked her, but she only shook her head, her big honey-brown eyes wide.

Eyes so like his own they were spooky.

“Avery, say matos,” Charlie commanded her sister.

Avery sucked on her fingers, the non-verbal equivalent of telling her twin to fuck off.

Nick had to grin. So much for kids not having distinct personalities until a certain age. His two had distinguished themselves while they were still in the womb, according to Lila.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and it was getting ridiculous. She was gone for one night.

One stupid night, and she’d been gone for plenty before. Tonight, she was even with his sister. He always felt better when Lila was traveling for Warning Sign shows for some reason. They were the next best thing to her coming with them for Oblivion shows.

So much of their family and extended family was in Warning Sign. Not only his sister, but Lila’s two former stepsons, Malachi and Michael. Jules was Margo’s sister, and since Margo was Lila’s best friend, another connection there. Not to mention the Simon angle, considering Margo was married to that giant dickhead Simon.

Simon, who hadn’t returned his calls for three days. Off modeling again. Fucker.

Then there was Molly, who was Jazz’s sister, and Randy, who was part of the lighting crew and was Harper’s younger brother. So many connections.

So many people to watch out for Lila. Who loved her.

Nick frowned and juggled his girls on his hips. Whoa, where had that come from? He wasn’t some Nervous Nellie with his wife when she traveled. It was part of her job. This trip was even shorter than most.

Yet he couldn’t shake the cold fingers of dread wrapping around the back of his neck and squeezing. So much so that he had to set down the twins in case he dropped them.

His fucking arms were shaking. The nerves inside dancing like they were lined with electricity.

“Daddy?” Charlie asked, patting his leg as high as she could reach.

“Go watch TV,” he managed. “Take care of your sister. I’ll be in soon.”

Charlie normally argued. About everything. She was only two-and-a-half after all. Just a baby.

But for once, she grabbed hold of her sister’s free hand and dragged her with her down the hall to the living room, already issuing more orders.

“Paw Patrol. Not Care Bears.”

Avery mumbled around her fingers.

If Nick knew his girls, the TV would be on Care Bears in no time. Eventually, Avery would start sobbing and Charlie would give in and change it.

Softie.

Nick picked up another tomato and the knife, firming his hold on it when his fingers spasmed. What the hell was going on? Was he sick?

Again, his thoughts circled around to Lila. Lila at the show. His throat tightened, closing until he couldn’t breathe. His vision narrowed, tunneling until he couldn’t see the tomato he’d massacred.

Not Lila. It was Ricki.

Dear God, it was his sister.

They had this twin thing that kicked in sometimes. When their father died, Nick had known the instant it happened because Ricki had been at their dad’s side. When she was in pain, Nick knew.

He fucking knew, and it was as if his own guts were being shredded from the pain.

Doubled over, he struggled to remain standing. The knife bounced out of his hand, hitting the floor with a metallic slap. He gripped the edge of the counter, using it to support his weight as he fumbled his phone out of his pocket. He pressed the speed dial for Donovan, Lila’s boss and the owner of Ripper Records.

He didn’t wait for Donovan to speak.

“The show,” Nick forced out. “My sister. Something’s happened at the show.”