Chapter Twenty-nine
Elizabeth opened her eyes to Zander’s face, relaxed in sleep, on the pillow beside her. They’d never done this before, slept the night together, and she savored the sensation—the bed soft and warm, the weight of Zander’s arm across her ribs, heavy and possessive and the tickle of his breath on her bare shoulder. His eyes opened and she got the charge she always got when they first connected.
“I can speak for twenty minutes this morning,” he said. “You’re beautiful and I love you and if you think I’ll do the decent thing and encourage you to rethink this, tough shit.” But his gaze was anxious.
Elizabeth reached out to smooth the crease between his brow.
“Tell me you love me again.”
Using the arm across her ribs, he reeled her in. “I love you. And we’re fucked.”
She stretched languorously. “Oh yes.” Slid an exploratory hand down the planes of his extraordinary torso. Mine.
“First task is find a way to spin this to minimize the fallout on you.” Zander sat up, shoving a pillow behind his back. The confidential tone he had to use through recuperation, combined with post-surgery huskiness, only added to his sexiness. “In the short term I’m a pariah, the only good I can do for us is to keep my fortune—”
With a sigh, Elizabeth sat up, mollified by the way his attention dived to her exposed breasts. Good, still distractable.
“Here’s what’s happening,” she said, rearranging her own pillow as a backrest, and covered herself—temporarily—for their talk. “We leave your lawyers to fight for your fortune and retreat to New Zealand, somewhere private. You heal and plot world domination, I write my memoir and we get to know each other’s families. Meanwhile, your friends and supporters continue to work on your behalf. Dimity is already coordinating efforts.”
At his astonished blink, she said sternly, “Did you really think we were all going to sit on our hands?”
“No, but—”
“Exactly. No buts. And we have new recruits. Your bodyguard, whom I discovered is a highly decorated vet, is lobbying his military contacts to reiterate the charity’s belief that you acted out of a genuine concern for their cause. And Stormy has already shut down Travis’s grandstanding by threatening her own exposé, which would hint that he can’t match you in the tackle department.”
Zander’s mouth curved. “He’s hung like a horse.”
“I haven’t the benefit of comparison.” She lifted the sheet. “Looks pretty sizeable to me, though I’m happy to work on it with you.”
He caught her exploratory hand and kissed it. “Not yet. I need to make sure you understand what you’re signing up for.” His expression sobered. “Darlin’, we’re not looking at a quick fix, my reputation could take years to rebuild. The insurers will fight, the press will claim I’m using you and you’re too silly or infatuated to see it. For a lot of people, I’ll stay a pariah. And if my singing voice is irreparably damaged, I have no idea what the fuck I’ll do with my life.”
“I know we have tough times ahead,” she said, “and we’ll get through them together.”
He traced the lines on her palm. “What happened with my dad isn’t something that anyone can make better, Doc, not even you. I’ll regret what I did for the rest of my life.”
“But you can stop defining yourself by it,” she suggested gently.
“For you, I’ll try.” He smiled at her, a smile so intimate, so tender she knew herself loved. “I’ll always be arrogant, ambitious and demanding,” he warned. “Autocratic.” He flicked the sheet down to her waist.
“That’s true.” Elizabeth slid into a calendar girl pose. “Fortunately, I’ve had some experience with despots.”
His hot gaze narrowed. “Are you comparing me with toddlers again?”
“One day,” she said, “I want a baby.”
Zander looked like he’d been hit by a sledgehammer. “With me? Hell, Doc, that level of irresponsibility makes me feel like the sensible one.”
But he slid down to enfold her in his arms. Burying his face into her neck, he said huskily, “I know what you give me, Elizabeth, but what the hell do I give you?”
“Your heart,” she said simply.
“Yes, you have that.” Zander lifted his head to kiss her. “Always and forever, it’s yours.”
* * *
Six weeks later
The harbor had gotten choppy since his ride over. Zander had grown adept at reading sailing conditions, so when he boarded the return ferry to Waiheke, he climbed to the stern top deck where he’d get the fresh air he needed and be sheltered from the gusts skipping whitecaps across the water.
There were other locals onboard and he nodded greetings, but didn’t stop until he’d found himself an empty bench away from the tourists who were more interested in seeing where they were going than the Auckland wharf they were leaving.
Elizabeth had sent two texts, he hadn’t replied to either and he wasn’t sure why, because the news was good—the best.
Maybe it was shock. The outcome wasn’t what Zander had expected, which was why he’d insisted on going alone to the specialist so he could master his disappointment privately. He even had his lines memorized for Elizabeth. “Not to be, but I already knew that. You don’t have to worry about me.”
But he would live to sing another day. Not immediately, there’d be a couple of months of vocal therapy first, but he was Zander fucking Freedman again.
And then he felt it, the deep upwelling of thankfulness that was so often a feature of his new life. Needing a big moment, he took off the cap that covered his growing hair and tossed it in the air like a graduate. The wind caught and flung it into the sea where it churned in the wake of the ferry, a speck of red in the foaming white.
Zander sucked in the salty air with a hint of diesel. “I’m back.”
But threading through the joy was something else—doubt? Fear? It kicked in every time he picked up his cell to phone Elizabeth and since everything about her mattered, he left it in his pocket and tried to identify the source of his uneasiness before she met the ferry.
In no way were his problems solved. He’d lost many fans and that grieved him, but many had also stuck by him, which humbled him. His reputation was still screwed, he was still broke—most of his assets were being liquidated to fight the insurers. Likely there’d be hand-to-hand combat in the courts—bring it on.
And yet, despite everything, he was happy. And that, he realized, was what he feared losing.
The ferry shuddered as it hit the open water, the roll becoming more pronounced and Zander planted his feet more firmly and braced his back against the hull, enjoying the solitude.
He’d grown to appreciate quiet moments and small pleasures.
Fishing with his brother, pruning fruit trees under instruction from his mother, even the noisy get-togethers with the Winston clan. And with Elizabeth, discovering the joys of sex based on intimacy.
Letting himself be loved.
This morning when Doc had dropped him at the ferry and kissed him for luck, she’d said, “I’m ready for our next great adventure, but I’ve also enjoyed having you to myself.”
As always when he thought about her, Zander’s priorities came into focus. In a moment of clarity he thought, I’m not strong enough yet.
Rage had been his everything, his reason to breathe, his passion. It wasn’t his everything anymore. He had other things to live for and other things to fight for.
Expecting bad news on his voice, he’d been quietly creating opportunities for the other band members. Writing songs that didn’t fit Rage. If Elizabeth’s book hit as big as the publisher was suggesting, she’d need someone to protect her in the shark tank of insta-fame. Another shark. Or two. They already had Dimity on retainer as her publicist and Doc’s revamped website was incredible.
I want more from my life.
He watched the seagulls dip and glide above the vessel, like pirates choosing the right moment to board. He’d been so focused on reconquering the music world he’d never appreciated that there were other worlds to conquer. Domesticity, relationships, mentorship.
Standing, he dug in his pockets for the remains of a protein bar and crumpled it, tossing the fragments a few feet away. A couple of gulls swooped, their webbed feet skittering as they landed, snatched and gobbled.
Elizabeth had said it was the small daily choices that make a good life and she was right. Every day he made incremental changes to be less selfish, more considerate and loving. But sometimes a man stood at a crossroads and the path he chose changed the course of his life.
The ferry reached the island and he saw Elizabeth’s bright red hair on the dock and felt another surge of gratitude. Once the world wasn’t enough to fill the hole in him; now he was sustained by one person’s faith. Fame had been his drug, his fatal flaw, and he wasn’t willing to risk their relationship until he was sure he’d broken his addiction.
She saw him and waved, her smile brilliant as he gave her the thumbs-up. For now, the return of his singing voice would remain their secret—his and Doc’s.
He wasn’t the man he wanted to be—the man his father was—but he would be. Zander smiled a secret conqueror’s smile. And then, universe, look out.
The gangplank lowered and he stepped into his future.
How many people do you need to love you?
Just one. This one.
* * *
Thanks for reading RISE, I hope you enjoyed it. I appreciate all reviews, whether negative or positive.
I’m working on the next book in the Rock Solid Romance series so if you’re interested in publication updates and work-in-progress excerpts, simply send an email to: with the subject line: Newsletter.
Next up is a novella on Jared and Kayla, then Dimity’s story, followed by the other band members. I haven’t decided who to pair Dimity up with yet, so if you have a strong view I’d love to hear it. Zander scored his own book through reader request, so I do pay attention! (See Author’s Note). I also intend continuing Zander and Elizabeth’s story as an ongoing subplot in the Rock Solid Romance series.
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