It was late when I took the walkway toward the modest house in the quiet suburban neighborhood. My flight from Savannah had been delayed, and I was fucking wiped.

Ash and Willow had arrived a week ago. The rest of the band and their families would be there within the next few days so we could finalize plans for the next tour, which was kicking off next month.

Over the last couple of years, things had skyrocketed for Sunder, the band gaining more fame and prominence than we ever could have dreamed. We’d been working our asses off in Savannah, putting the final touches on the album we’d recorded while there over the last couple months.

Now we were shifting gears and turning our focus to the promotion, which meant playing live and getting in front of our fans.

Thank God we got to take a breather for a bit, because I was exhausted.

Still, I shouldn’t have been surprised this was where my feet carried me the second we’d landed.

I rapped on the door.

Four months had passed since I’d been back in LA, a sin in and of itself, and my chest tightened with a shot of anticipation that always came with a healthy dose of regret as I lifted my hand to knock at the wood.

Waiting in the shadows of night, I sucked in a deep breath, wondering again how the fuck I’d gotten this deep. Torn between two worlds. Pretending one didn’t exist.

I guess none of us really knew what direction our lives were gonna go. As kids, we imagined and dreamed. Most of the time, those dreams were bigger than life.

Outrageous and bold.

Unattainable and impractical.

Sometimes we got real close to reaching them, and other times we landed in an entirely different stratosphere.

What seemed ridiculous was I was the one who’d landed here. Living the life so many kids considered the wildest kind of dream.

The rock star life.

Endless roads and boundless fans.

Money, fame, and fortune.

Crazy, because I never really felt I was living it. Just a stranger who glided along the periphery. Close but never quite stepping over the line.

I hadn’t wanted it. Had never pictured myself in this position. The things I’d wanted had been similar but distinct. Different but the same.

Truth of the matter? That’d been me and my brother Mark all along.

Polar opposites but entirely in sync.

Contradictory but identical.

He’d been my hero, and I’d been his rock.

Maybe that’d been our demise.

A light flipped on somewhere in the house, and anticipation flooded me. How could I regret any of that now? Maybe I’d done everything so incredibly wrong, but it’s true what they say—sometimes miraculous, beautiful things come out of your greatest tragedy.

I’d be lying if I said the situation wasn’t shitty, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the best thing I had. What got me through the lonely nights.

A silhouette passed by the opaque drape that hung across the side window and movement rustled on the other side of the door. I swallowed around the nerves that gathered fast at the base of my throat.

This was the part I hated—dealing with her.

Metal scraped as the lock disengaged, and those nerves shivered and spiked with warning when the door barely cracked open two inches.

Guarded, a woman I’d never seen before peeked out at me, confusion in her sleepy gaze. “Can I help you?”

I did my best to ignore the dread that climbed into my chest.

“Is Veronica here?” The question came out harder than I intended.

Something registered on the woman’s face. “Veronica? The girl who used to own this house?”

That dread took a sharp turn south and blazed into anger. “Used to?”

Warily, she blinked, stammered as if she was the one who needed to explain herself. “W-we bought this house almost three months ago.”

I nodded, though it was entirely in disbelief. Of course, I wasn’t really surprised now, was I?

Not at all.

I was fucking pissed.

I took a step back, trying to hold it together. “Sorry to bother you so late at night. I haven’t been in town for a while.”

She looked at me almost apologetically. “I hope you can touch base with her.”

“Thanks,” I said before I spun on my heel and yanked my phone from my pocket, thumbs banging out her number as I stalked back down the walkway.

It rang four times before her sickly sweet voice came on the line, recorded and just as fake as the rest of her. I listened to her message before I was growling the words right after the beep.

“You better have a good explanation. Because I’m fucking done.”