Chapter Four

Maria

Gabriel’s face turns a dark shade of red and despite my gut twisting into intricate knots, I laugh at his expression. Brandon – as in Brandon Wright, self-proclaimed god of rock – smiles at me, making the laughter die as soon as it was born.

“Yeah, man.” Gabriel shuffles his feet. “I’m sorry about that.”

Brandon barks out a laugh, but it sounds strained. As if he had to force it out. The expression he wears masks any unease he might feel and when he stands from his chair and claps Gabriel on the shoulder, I know why his presence felt too strong.

Even in the hotel yesterday morning when I went in to clean his room. Remembering him, I groan into my hands and although through the cracks of my fingers I see Brandon look my way, Gabriel remains oblivious.

“No apologies, man,” Brandon says. “It’s no big deal.”

Gabriel runs his hand over his too-long hair, and I drop my hands witnessing the lost vulnerability come back in my little brother. Stupid tears threaten to spill but I hold them back, not wanting to miss a second of Gabriel’s innocent youth come in the form of hero worship.

“Do you have anything you want me to sign?”

“I actually… I...” He clears his throat and coughs into his fisted hand.

“He steals your music off the internet,” I offer.

“Maria!” he yells.

I shoot him a sly smile. “Time and time again, I’ve told you how stealing is wrong. Now it’s time for you to finally learn that lesson.”

“Maria’s a mega super fan. Bigger than me,” he tosses back at me. “She turns your songs into lullabies for Ada and sings them to her every night. And when she’s cooking, she sings along and dances, too. It’s horrible.”

“At least I bought my copies.”

“Stalker fan!”

“He’s the stalker.” I point at Brandon.

The sides of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens.

“He followed me from the hotel!”

“What?” both guys ask.

“You think I wouldn’t piece it together?” I ask, not knowing what I’m saying but letting the words tumble out anyway.

If I’m going to be embarrassed, I’m taking everyone down with me. Maybe even Ada.

“I remember you, Mr. Rock God. I cleaned your hotel room yesterday.”

“You cleaned his hotel room?” Gabriel asks. “You didn’t do anything gross, like smell his underwear, did you?”

“Gabe!” I throw my crumpled-up napkin at him and he dodges it without problem.

“That’s a good question,” Brandon chimes in. “Did you smell my underwear yesterday?”

“Because if she did, I can give you the bra I hid from you before you came into the apartment.”

“Oh dear God,” I grumble, feeling my face enflame.

No longer hungry, I stand from my chair and take the few steps to my kitchen. On the counter, I rummage through my purse, huffing when I can’t find what I’m looking for. From my periphery, I spot Gabriel nudge Brandon with an elbow.

“She’s looking for her balls.”

He throws his head back and laughs. I stop what I’m doing to admire him. So unbridled, without restraints. He laughs hard and heedless. It’s beautiful.

“Her what?” He wipes the bottom of his nose with the back of his hand and entranced, I follow his movements.

Veins curve up his arm, following the path of sinewy muscles and I know this is it. This is what arm porn looks like. My mouth dries and when his eyes darken as he watches me, I force myself to continue searching through my purse.

“Meditation balls,” I explain, not meeting his gaze, although he advances toward me. “I’m looking for my meditation balls.”

Not that it’ll help. My nerves are wrecked for good. All because I brought home a stranger who did something kind for my brother.

He hums and involuntarily, my attention snaps to him.

“Meditation balls?” He digs his teeth into the bottom of his lips and I suppress a smile when he glances from Gabriel to me and I know he’s waging a war in his head on what he can and cannot say in front of my brother.

I grab the first thing I find – a balled up receipt and toss it at Brandon, giggling when it bounces off his nose. “Mind out of the gutter, Wright.”

He lunges toward me, and I should be scared. A strange man in my apartment charging after me. Everything in my upbringing warns me, but laughter bubbles up quickly and I run to the sink where I turn on the water and point the hose at him.

“Come at me,” I taunt, knowing that just like Ada’s swing, the hose doesn’t work.

But Brandon doesn’t know that. He lifts his hands in a sign of surrender and we stare off. Appeased, I shut off the water, just as Brandon reaches for a nearby glass and tosses the water in my face. Narrowing my eyes at him, I spring toward him. He catches me by my waist and throws me over his shoulder.

Gabriel’s whole body shakes with laughter. His laugh, it’s so unexpected, something I haven’t heard in so long I almost forgot what it sounds like.

“This is your fault!” I shout at him from my upside down position. “That was your glass of water that he threw at me. I told you to clean your glass.”

“As punishment,” Brandon cuts in, “I’m gonna give you all of my CDs and have my band members sign them.”

“Awesome!”

Lightly, I smack his back, ready to get down when Ada begins to stir. Taking the hint, he puts me down on my feet, but places a hand on the small of my back as if he can’t stand the idea of not touching me. The thought warms me, even though I know it’s not true.

He’s nothing more than a kind stranger, a good man, who also happens to be insanely famous. Never mind the emotions he stirs in me. They’re my emotions, my reactions to a gorgeous man with a heart as big as the ocean.

Ada blinks slowly and I crouch down in front of her, stroking her chubby cheek with a slender finger.

“I’ve got her,” Gabriel says, moving to the kitchen to prepare her milk.

“Nah, Gabe,” I reply. “You wanted to go to the skatepark. By the time you finish, it’s gonna be late and you know how I am.”

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

My back stiffens, and the exhaustion I’ve been able to battle away seeps in. “Absolutely not. You’ll just end up sneaking out later on and I need some sleep.” My voice is stern, but I can’t hide the desperation behind it.

“I won’t.” He kisses my cheek and when he takes Ada from me, I run a finger over the spot he kissed. “Promise, Maria. I told you, no more sneaking out. I’ll go tomorrow before it gets late.”

I draw my brows together as Gabriel waits for me to make a decision. Brandon gives my side a gentle squeeze. It’s meant to reassure, but all it does is make my blood boil hotter until I’m certain it’ll burn me from the inside out.

“He said he won’t sneak out,” Brandon says, as if he thinks a fifteen-year-old boy won’t tell a lie. “Trust him and if he breaks your trust,” he shrugs, “no signed CDs, and definitely no backstage passes to my upcoming show.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen and he hops from one foot to the other. “You’re serious? Backstage passes?”

“If your sister doesn’t mind.”

“She doesn’t.” He turns to address me, pleading. “Tell him you don’t mind.”

I pretend to mull it over in my head and when I nod, he tilts his head back in quiet celebration.

He gives me a one arm hug that I return with too much enthusiasm. “I’ll give Ada a bath after she finishes her bottle and then put her to bed.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” I pat his cheek before he goes back into his room. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” I ask Brandon, only half joking. “You could’ve bribed him a long time ago and saved me years of worry.”

“I was gonna ask you the same question.”

My heart stops then stammers to an erratic start, creating its own beat to the sound Brandon’s declaration.

I let him lead me to my couch and when we sit on it, I wish I had draped something to cover the worn, tired fabric. But this is me. My life. Tired and worn.

“How old are you, Maria?”

“Nineteen,” I say, my voice so low I can barely hear it.

I wait for judgment to cloud his brown eyes, but all I find reflecting back at me is understanding.

“How did a nineteen-year-old come to take care of her little brother and sister?”

Studying him through narrow eyes, I ask, “How do you know Ada’s my sister and not my daughter?”

He crosses thick arms over his chest, making the muscles strain as his tattoos peek and dance just beneath the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you always this suspicious?”

Through clenched teeth, I breathe in and out through my nose, trying to keep the creeping anxiety at bay.

“You called Gabe your brother,” he explains. “And called Ada his sister. Basic math tells me you’re all siblings.”

“Basic math, huh?’ I laugh but it holds no humor. “How I came to take care of my brother and sister.” I sigh. “All good stories start with alcohol, right?”

He doesn’t nod, but puts a hand on my knee. The weight holds me together, giving me the strength to tell a story I’ve never told anyone. But if you can’t trust a stranger, turned god of rock, who can you trust in this cynical world?

“My dad’s an alcoholic. Sometimes he’s a recovering alcoholic. This isn’t one of those times.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. “He sobers up a few months out of the year, but most of those months are spent in rehab, which was fine when Mom was around. At least then we never wound up in foster care. She left us when some lady showed up at our doorstep with Ada in tow, saying she was my dad’s baby. My dad had been sober for eight months that time. We actually thought this was it. He was going to stay sober. I even started applying to colleges, thinking I could leave Gabe with Mom and Dad and not worry.” Defeated, I slump my shoulders forward. “So here we are. Mom’s gone. Dad’s gone – drunk or in rehab. Gabe goes to school most days. Ada’s mom left her so she stays with my neighbor for free while I work at the hotel, and then I come home and do the best I can.”