Sweat dripped from my brow as I lugged my suitcase down the hallway. While most people went gaga over the California weather—if one more person told me it was a “dry heat” I was seriously going to smack someone—I loved the humidity here. From Beckett’s whining and groaning, he didn’t share my opinion.

Cursing, he threw open the door to my loft. “It’s hot as balls in here,” he grumbled as he adjusted the thermostat. “The air conditioning isn’t even on. T-Rex, did you hear me? The air isn’t …”

His focus shifted to an ornate planter on the breakfast bar. Star-shaped blooms in varying shades of blue tilted toward the window. I’d never seen flowers so beautiful.

“Who are they from?” he asked.

Standing behind me, his chest brushed my back as I gingerly plucked the note from under a gray stone. Gazing at Chase’s familiar scrawl, I turned the rock over in my palm, my thumb tracing the jagged edges.

Taryn,

I picked up this stone at the Guadeloupe on the float trip. I almost chucked it back in the river. On the surface, it looked like every other stone—plain, gray, and jagged. Like me. But the other side was smooth and beautiful, with little veins of color. Like you. So I kept it. I had it with me when I went to rehab. I thought I needed it, that little piece of stone that reminded me of you. But I don’t. Because you’re in my head. You’ll always be in my head. In a place where you’ll never be lost. And just so you don’t think that I’m an ass for giving you a rock, the flowers are Blue Amaryllis. They’re all the colors of your beautiful eyes. They grow best in over forty percent humidity, but they can adapt. Just like you. Take them back to California and transplant them. They will thrive. That is what I want for you, Sweet Taryn. I want you to thrive. But if you ever, ever, get lost, I’ll be here. Because I love you. That’s the truth, and I own it.

Chase

I sank onto the barstool, tears streaming down my face. Beckett reached for me, but stopped abruptly. “Let me get the bags upstairs,” he said thickly as he ambled to the luggage we’d abandoned by the door. “Then I’ll get out of here and let you unpack.”

I glanced at his Travel Pro suitcase, still in the foyer, then back to him as he trudged up the stairs. “Where are you going?”

He stopped at the landing and gave me a smile. “My place, babe.”

When he disappeared inside my bedroom, the tether that had bound us since childhood tugged in my chest, but it didn’t break, as I feared it would when he finally accepted the truth. I took a cautious breath, almost surprised when air filled my lungs.

I’d quit my job. Moved to California. Reinvented myself. But the new life I’d been afraid to embrace hadn’t really begun until this moment.

I buried my face in my worn terrycloth robe. I’d left the little pink wrap in Austin because I mistakenly believed the ratty and frayed piece of home didn’t fit my needs anymore. How wrong I was.

A knock at the front door echoed through the loft. Damn it. I checked the time as another knock rang out. No way the realtor was this early.

“Coming!”

Checking the peephole, my pulse galloped.

Tori jolted when I pulled the door open. “Hey, Belle. What are you doing here?”

And why didn’t you use your key?

“I wanted to see you … but …” She cleared her throat, her focus shifting from my robe to the stairs. “If you’ve got company, I can come back.”

I snorted. “Company?”

She bit her lip, shifting her weight to the other foot. “Yeah. I should have called, I guess.”

“Since when do you call?” I pulled her across the threshold. “What is it?” I flopped on the couch, then arranged my hair in a messy bun. She didn’t move an inch from the square of travertine in front of the door. “You look weird.”

“I …” She eased into the overstuffed chair. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Fingers locked in her lap, she looked around uncomfortably. My gaze traveled from the dark circles under her eyes to the faded slash at her throat where they’d inserted the trach tube, and beyond to what I couldn’t see. The mazes of scars hidden beneath her clothes, many of which barely missed vital organs.

Panic gripped me as I shot from the couch, squeezing in next to her on the chair. “What’s the matter?” Inadvertently my hand traveled up her arm, squeezing gently as I went, like my mother used to do when I fell off my bike. But I’d been to enough doctors with Tori to know the bulk of her injuries couldn’t be seen or felt. “Tell me right now,” I demanded.

“I’m fine.” She observed me with curiosity and a creased brow. “There’s nothing, like, physically wrong with me.”

“Oh, thank God.” I melted into the cushions, pulling her back with me. “You scared me, Belle.”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that.” A little of the defiant edge returned to her tone, and I was grateful to hear it. “I’m just … I …” She sat up, then scooted to the edge of the cushion. “I just miss you, Taryn. A lot.”

Her revelation didn’t surprise me. I felt it last week in the desperate way she hugged me.

When she finally met my gaze, my eyes darted around.

“What?” she asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I’m just waiting for the chill to reach us,” I whispered conspiratorially.

“Huh?”

“Tori Grayson, admitting a frailty? I think Hell just froze over, and I left all my winter clothes in LA.”

She punched me in the arm, her bony fingers sure to leave a bruise.

“Ouch,” I yelped, rubbing the tender spot. “Bitch.”

“That’s what you get for laughing at me.” She pouted. “It’s not funny.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Things are really fucked, Taryn.”

I edged closer, propping my chin on her shoulder. “What things?”

“Stacia for one.”

She gave me a sidelong glance, rolling her eyes when my lips inadvertently tilted in a smile. “What did the anti-Christ do this time?”

“She thinks she knows every damn thing.” Her despair momentarily gave way to irritation. “She’s messing with the boys’ schedules and pissing everyone off.”

“Hm.” I sat back, contemplating. Giving Tori advice was hit or miss under the best circumstances. “Have you told her to stop?”

Another eye roll. “No, because I have no backbone and I’m just fine with it.” She threw herself against the cushions. “Of course I told her to stop.”

Her distress prompted my response, though I wasn’t sure if my motives were pure. “Why don’t you … you know, fire her?”

“I would, but I can’t do it by myself!”

My brows shot to my hairline. “Of course you can. Just follow my system and—”

“You don’t understand.” Genuine fear clouded her gaze. “There are other things. Metro is really pissed. They’re threatening legal action.”

I snorted. “No way Mac would sue you, Belle.”

She worried her bottom lip. “He would, and he is.”

Anger stiffened my spine. “I had those contracts drawn myself. Any of the Big Three are only committed to one release at a time. If they want to change labels, they can. Period.”

“That’s not stopping Mac’s legal department from threatening us with—” Her brow furrowed as she pulled a crumbled two-page letter from her bag. “Inducement, fraud, and breach of fidu … fiduc …”

“Fiduciary interest.” I finished her sentence, bitterness rising in my throat.

“Yeah, that.” Tori tossed the letter on the cushion, glaring at the papers with so much fury I half expected the pages to turn to ash.

“It’s bullshit,” I mumbled. “It’s a scare tactic.”

“It’s working.”

My stomach sank as I scanned the verbiage in Mac’s instrument of betrayal. It was a good old-fashioned shakedown. The lawyers knew Twin Souls would exhaust time and resources fighting the bogus claims, so they expected a compromise. Digital rights … or possibly a percentage of the catalog.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

I took Tori’s hand. “I’ll talk to our … your … lawyers,” I said. “I know the chinks in Metro’s armor. And I’ll use Ayers Public Relations to launch a media assault. Mac will rue the day he started down this path.” I laughed dryly. “I’ll take out a full-page ad in every industry magazine, letting everyone know the greedy fuck is trying to strong arm the talent. Mac will have artists jumping ship right and left.” My voice rose as I formulated the plan. “And then … I’ll talk to every new artist that breaks on the Billboard Chart or makes a ripple on iTunes or Spotify. I’ll … I’ll give them free public relations for a year to keep them from signing with Metro.”

Tori threw her arms around me. “That’s why I need you, Taryn.” I forgot how freakishly strong she was until my ribs threatened to crack beneath her embrace. “Please … I want you to come back to Twin Souls.”

“Tori … I can’t …”

She scrambled to free a manila folder from her tote. “No, no! I don’t want you to work for me. I want—” A hopeful smile curved her mouth as she shoved the file at me. “I want you to be my partner.”

“We were partners. We were always partners.”

Shaking her head, she extracted a two-page contract with her lawyer’s inscription on the header. “I know. But I want it to be legal.”

I took the papers from her shaking hand and then laid them aside. “I just opened a business in California. Ayer’s PR is a real company, Belle. With a roster full of clients.” I sighed. “I can’t just drop that.”

“I don’t want you to.” Panic crept into her tone. “We can add Ayers Public Relations to Twin Souls. We can change the name.”

“That wouldn’t be smart.” I gave her hand a loving squeeze. “You’re branded.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know I haven’t made the best decisions, but branded?” She winced. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

She waited for my confirmation, and I chuckled. Then she scowled, and I laughed even harder.

“It’s not funny, Taryn.”

“What’s funny is that you managed to graduate with a degree in business.” I bit my lip to keep from dissolving into another fit when her scowl deepened. “You’re not branded, dumb ass. Twin Souls is a brand. A much bigger brand than Ayers PR.”

Her frown turned sheepish. “Whatever. I don’t care about that. I just want you to come back. Fifty-fifty.”

I paused, the next wave of laughter catching in my throat. “No, Belle,” I said emphatically. “Twin Souls is your company. Yours and Rhenn’s.”

“Rhenn’s dead.” She fused her lips and looked down, her chest rising and falling like she was trying to catch her breath. Her brutal honesty stole my air as well. When she finally lifted her gaze, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Twin Souls … the name … it wasn’t for Rhenn,” she said softly. “It was for you. Mostly. You’re my Twin Soul. You’re who I have left. The one person alive I trust above anyone else.”

She’d proved it in a million different ways, but Tori needed control. And I always let her have that. Mostly because there were so many things that happened that she couldn’t control.

I pulled her close like I used to, and she let me. “You know I love you, right? But maybe it isn’t a good idea for us to work together.” She stiffened. “Not because I don’t want to,” I quickly amended, stroking her hair to soften the blow. “But I’ve been so worried that maybe I’d do the wrong thing—hurt the company inadvertently—that I started to second guess myself. I have to have the freedom to make mistakes without dragging you down.”

She pulled away and gripped my shoulders, her amber eyes pleading. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Even if we drive this bus off a cliff, I know in my heart that you have the best intentions. So it won’t matter.”

I raised a brow. “So, you’re saying we’re Thelma and Louise?”

“More like Jack and Rose.” She sniffed. “You jump, I jump.”

“Comparing our partnership to the Titanic?” I hissed a breath. “Let’s keep that to ourselves. I don’t think our clients would see the humor.”

“Our clients?” Her voice rose a notch with excitement. “Does that mean …?”

“No.” I cringed when her face fell. “But how about this: I’ll help you work out this little difficulty with Metro. As a consultant. We’ll table the idea of a partnership for now. And we’ll see how it goes.”

She hugged me tightly, forehead pressed to my shoulder. “Okay.”

“But,” I continued. “I’m staying in California. No matter what, I have to service my new clients.”

The kinder, gentler Tori was still fierce and singularly focused on achieving her goals. So I wasn’t surprised when she sank against the cushion, eyeing me intently.

She tapped her lips absently with her index finger. “Your three biggest clients are here, right? Four, if you include Caged.”

“That’s true,” I conceded. “But I’m trying to diversify. That’s why I’m in town. I’ve got a few meetings set up with some music groups performing at Austin City Limits.”

She perked up, a wide-open smile lifting her lips. “Are you going to the Caged show?”

“No. Um, Elise really needs some … you know … experience with the clients. So … yeah. She’s going in my place.”

My reasons for pawning my client off on my new partner sounded fine in theory. But under Tori’s scrutiny, the lame ass excuse didn’t hold water.

“All right,” I grumbled. “I admit it. I don’t want to run into Chase.”

“I understand.” Empathy, not recrimination swam in her eyes. “I was just hoping you’d go with me.”

“You’re going?”

Austin City Limits, one of the premiere rock music festivals in the country, was hardly a place where Tori could blend into the crowd. Not to mention, several of the local bands would likely be doing Damaged covers.

“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf,” she said. I followed her gaze to the documents on the table. And I had to smile. It wasn’t the first contract Tori and I ever entered into. In the first grade, Paige, Tori and me all signed a pact, in purple crayon, vowing to be best friends “forever and a day.”

“Promise me you’ll consider it,” she said softly. “The offer, I mean.”

“I will.” Reluctantly, I pushed to my feet. “I’ve got a meeting I have to get ready for. Maybe we can meet for dinner?”

She brightened. “Sure. Do you want to go out, or …?”

With the influx of tourists in town for Austin City Limits, Sixth Street was packed.

“Let me see if I can get us a table somewhere private. If not, I’ll pick up some barbecue and meet you at your place.”

She hugged me and then headed out the door.

A half hour later, I greeted my realtor, a tight smile firmly in place. She ushered in the couple that I’d met yesterday afternoon. We took a seat at the dining room table. While the couple went on and on about the views and the “perfect” place for their couch, I concentrated on the paperwork in front of me, holding back the tears blurring the small print.

“Any questions?” the realtor asked, handing me a pen.

I shook my head, and then quietly signed away the rights to the first home I’d ever had.