Do you know what it feels like to stand at the precipice of life?
Teetering on the edge of the here and now?
You know in your gut you’re only one fumbled step away until you’re in a free fall.
Tumbling down, down, down.
On a direct collision course with your past.
Even when you’ve done everything in your power to leave it behind.
So careful not to travel the same roads littered with mistakes and regrets and unbearable pain.
And there those roads were.
Circling right back around again.
Bringing you face to face with the past you’d give anything to forget.
Funny how I’d done everything to avoid this.
Facing my past.
But I didn’t want to be afraid.
Not anymore.
I wanted to be brave. Filled with the kind of courage Austin swore he saw when he looked at me.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t trembling when I unlatched the door of the taxi, mumbled a quiet thank you, and slipped out into the Hollywood night. The thick air was warm against my already heated skin.
I felt hot.
Shaky.
I stepped up onto the busy sidewalk.
I stood in the middle of it while a hoard of people bustled around me, voices lifted and carefree as they headed to whatever spot would keep them entertained for the night.
And I just remained there. Frozen. My heart pounding in my ears as I stared up at the vintage-style marquee. The sign was all lit up, big, bold, black letters proclaiming tonight’s act.
Sunder.
When I first got to L.A., I’d gone to the one place I knew to find him.
Where we’d started.
Praying we weren’t at our end.
The old Sunder house in the Hills.
It’d been dark.
Quiet.
Almost eerie.
Or maybe it’d just been the stunning amount of discouragement and dread I’d felt in the possibility that I’d missed them. The irony that after all this time I’d finally gained the courage to step out and they were gone. On the road.
With a dash of hope, I’d looked up their tour schedule.
And here I was.
Standing in front of the glitzy, flashing lights.
A beacon.
The faint beat of the loud, hard music seeped through the thick block walls, stretching out to touch the night.
Sunder.
My head spun with the old fears and insecurities, with the old shame I no longer wanted to wear, and I forced myself up to the window.
My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, and my voice cracked. “I need a ticket, please.”
A girl with teal streaks in her platinum blonde hair and a ring in her lip leaned toward me. “Sorry, you’re about a month late. Shows been sold out for weeks.”
Desperation rippled through my senses. I gripped the edge of the counter. “Please…I have to get in there…my brother…”
What was I supposed to say? My brother was on stage? That I clung to the hope that the boy I needed was somewhere in there, sharing in the show with his own brother?
That I belonged?
I guess I looked just desperate enough, because she shook her head, gave me a wry smile. “Go on. It’s open floor. Don’t tell anyone I let you in.”
Relief flashed. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing.” She said it like it meant nothing. She had no idea how wrong she was.
I moved through the double doors and into the lobby area. People were everywhere, mostly youth, here to lose themselves to the hard, chaotic songs that spoke to them. The lyrics intense and pronounced.
As if they, too, had come here to be set free.
Free.
Nerves fired fast, and my pulse thundered, my breaths getting spun tighter and tighter as I shouldered through. Each step spun me higher.
Finally, I made it into the main room.
The lights were completely darkened.
All except for the bright bursts of light flashing on the stage.
Glowing silhouettes.
Strumming guitars.
I pushed deeper through the raving crowd.
Drawn.
Deeper and deeper.
Everything locked in my throat.
Bewilderment. Love. My spirit danced in recognition.
I blinked.
Austin.
I blinked again, trying to make sense of what I saw.
Austin.
He was here.
On stage.
With Sunder.
Singing.
Playing.
In place of Baz.
What was happening?
A tumble of confusion rippled in waves, and my attention was drawn to his right.
To my brother.
My blood.
I’m going to miss you when I’m gone.
Never before now had I felt the full magnitude of that claim. The fourteen-year-old girl who’d just wanted to be around her older brother, desperate for a moment to feel important. The one who’d been ripped up and tossed aside.
I missed. Oh my god, I missed.
My heart clenched, and I was trying to swallow around the clot of emotion at the base of my throat. I fought to get closer.
A tumble of dark faces and thrashing bodies went wild at the foot of the stage.
I pulled in a breath to steady myself. It felt as if I did nothing more than suck down more of that throbbing turmoil. Pulled it deep inside. Where it penetrated muscle and bone.
Calling me back.
Closer.
Nearer.
Something severe simmered across my flesh.
A sizzling, powerful force.
A raging storm building in the distance.
A bristle of energy and a lash of wind.
I’d run so far from this. And here I was. After all these years. Crawling back like a broken, beaten-down vagrant begging for a return ticket home.
Austin screamed into the mic, that gorgeous mouth twisted and harsh. His fingers flew in precision across the frets. Up and down the neck of the electric guitar, his other hand strumming the reckless beat.
Oh god.
No boy should have the right to look that good.
My beautiful, broken boy. And I spun and spun and spun.
Darkness.
Light.
Chaos.
And this unyielding ration of hope.
It was stunning.
The fever that raced inside me.
I battled to get closer, weaved and squeezed through the tight-knit bodies who fought for the same position as me.
Closer. Closer. Closer.
My body canted with the dizzying tilt of the room, my steps bringing me nearer.
Wanting more.
That’s why I was here.
I finally was ready for more.
I was ready for it all.
Strobes flashed. Bright strikes of colorful lights streaked across the defined lines of his face.
This boy who I should have known would always be a part of me.
I wanted it.
I wanted him.
Wanted everything he had to offer.
I stood there in complete awe in the middle of the bed of disorder. Bodies slammed, thrashed, and screamed all around me. Fists in the air. Voices lifted to sing along with this beautiful, mysterious boy.
A boy who without a doubt had belonged there all along.
I’d seen his fear of standing there. Heard it in his words and felt it in his reservations.
But I knew…I knew he belonged.
Joy lit.
Hope and peace in the middle of the darkest night.
Unable to take it any longer, I pushed back out through the crowd. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised the task was so much easier than my endeavor to get closer to the foot of the stage.
But that’s exactly where I was heading.
Closer.
Moving toward forever.
The need pounded through me like the beat of Zee’s drums.
With the manic chaos of their songs.
I moved to the backstage side entrance and started up two steps. My approach was cut off by a big, burly, bouncer.
He probably could have doubled for Jed.
He crossed his thick, tattooed arms over his chest.
“I need to get back there.” My voice was both weak and strong.
Needy.
He laughed. “Yeah…you and every other girl here, sweetheart. Invitation only.”
“Please…Ash Evans…he’s my brother.”
And I wanted to say it.
And Austin Stone is my life.
It froze on my tongue.
The big guy shook his head. “Nice try.”
His smile turned almost sympathetic. “Maybe hang tight right out here…your brother is likely to go scouting through the crowd sometime tonight. Never know what flavor he’s looking for.”
My stomach turned, and I fought the burn of moisture pricking at the back of my eyes.
Tears of protest and hope and this elusive freedom that taunted me.
Hovering in the distance.
The future I hadn’t been brave enough to hope for just out of reach.
I noticed movement behind the bouncer, and my eyes adjusted to make out the lines and curves. The familiar face came into focus.
Relief slammed me from all sides. “Anthony!” I yelled.
Desperate, I struggled to peek my head around the hulking mass who stood like a concrete barricade in front of me. “Anthony!”
Anthony di Pietro, Sunder’s manager, stumbled in his confident stride. He took a curious step back, brows dented as he peered at me through the haze of darkness and smoke.
“Do you remember me?” I all but begged.
“Edie?”
Deliverance.
“Oh my God, yes, please, I need to…”
I needed to live.
Bouncer guy was already swiveling to the side. He muttered an apology, letting me by just as Anthony was scooping me into the warmth of his chest.
As if I were his long-lost child.
I clutched him and let free the sob that rattled against my ribs.
Relief.
His voice washed with concern. “Edie Evans. Where the hell have you been? Ash…your brother…he’s going to be so relieved to see you. He told me he hasn’t talked to you in forever.”
Regret fisted my heart. I knew the one letter I’d sent my brother was no less than a feeble attempt at covering my grief. Ash would have worried about me all these years.
I knew he would.
I just hadn’t known how to stand.
Now I was ready.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Anthony mumbled at the top of my head.
Tears streamed down my face. He just hugged me, rocked me, soothed me in a way that let me know I was welcome. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s going to be happy to see you. I promise.”
Shame.
It hovered in the periphery. Taunting me from the shadowy fringes. A dim, wavy hue of red that simmered and glowed.
At the ready to strike.
To pull me back into the depths of loneliness and nothingness.
I refused to let it.
Anthony peeled me away, held me at arm’s length. “I’ve got to run up front to take care of something really quick. Why don’t you head over to VIP at the side of the stage. Boys’ll be off in less than five…only have one more song after this one.”
Sniffing, I nodded, raked the sleeve of my shirt across my face to mop up the moisture.
I offered him a small, thankful smile while freedom bounded through me.
“Okay, thank you.”
He slanted a nod, lips pulling at one side. “Welcome home, Edie.”
He strutted away, and I moved through the shadows, hugging my arms across my chest.
Every cell in my body felt drawn to the sound of the voice that lifted from the stage.
Mesmerizing.
Spellbinding.
Hypnotizing.
This haunted boy, so dark, so grim, so full of life.
I edged up to the side where I could see him. I was hidden behind the sweeping curtains that blanketed the stage, the rise of them high and heavy.
They kept me veiled as I looked out on the future waiting in the distance.
Trembles rolled, desire and devotion as I looked upon a face too brilliant.
His talent too beautiful.
His body a straight shot of devastation.
All my defenses were obliterated.
He was lost to the vibe and the sound and the call of the fans.
Emotion swam through me.
It dragged me into waves of murky, impenetrable waters.
So deep and dark.
I floated through them.
Drowned in his comfort.
This boy my perfect air.
My breath.
My lungs burned with the weight of him.
So full.
Brimming with hope.
With belief.
Love.
I wanted to lose myself in it forever.
That darkness fluttered and flashed. But this time it was different.
Vicious.
Vile.
The air locked in my lungs.
I froze.
Awareness pricked at my consciousness, and the tiny hairs lifted at the nape of my neck.
Chills skated my skin as dread crawled across the surface.
Darts of fear pierced me everywhere.
Stabbing.
Torturing.
Tears threatened, and I tried so hard to keep them back. To keep from showing him I was weak and vulnerable. Refusing to allow him to ever hurt me again.
But the reaction was already there, and Paul laughed low and menacing at my ear.
I’d known I’d have to face him. Someday. And soon.
But not here.
Not like this.
Hot breaths panted against my cheek.
Memories spun.
His corrupt body against mine. His vulgar breaths in my face.
Bile climbed up my throat. Sickness clawed like the sharp bite of nails.
A sob.
I tried to hold it in. But it erupted.
Tight and shrill.
As if my coat of protection had been ripped away to reveal the sickening shame.
The morbid loss of being used up.
Panic took center stage.
Clotting off all other feeling.
Fight or flight.
And God. I wanted to fight.
But I didn’t have the strength.
I pressed my hand to my face and turned to run.
I rushed to get around him. To find a safe place to hide. I shrieked at the repulsive grip that clamped down on my forearm. He forced me back. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I attempted to yank my arm away. “Stay away from me.”
He jerked me up against him. “Want to talk to you…maybe get a little bit of what you owe. Seems like a good enough night to start. What do you think?”
I pulled back and he yanked me toward him. Hard. I stumbled forward. He turned me so my back was against his chest, his arms banded around me like chains.
No.
I thrashed and kicked my feet.
My screams were buried in the music.
He tightened his hold.
We were in the shadows.
Hidden.
Every inch of me rejected the idea of ever being touched by him again.
The heavy curtains surrounding the stage disguised us, the darkened wings keeping us obscured.
He dragged me back until we hit a door. He opened it and hauled me inside.
The small space was dark as pitch.
The second we were inside, he spun me and tossed me out of his hold.
I gasped and reeled back. I barely caught myself when I tripped over something on the ground.
He fumbled with a switch.
An overhead lamp blinked to life, and I registered we were in an old dressing room that was being used as storage, the messy space stuffed full of boxes and equipment.
An unorganized path cut down the middle.
Paul stared across at me, a sneer written on his face as he reached back and locked the door.
Revulsion curled my stomach.
“What do you want?” I demanded. I hoped it sounded strong, but it came off weak.
Enclosing, he inched closer. I took a fumbled step back. “Stay away from me.”
Outside the walls, I heard Austin shout into the mic, “Goodnight!”
“Austin.” His name came out without my permission.
Disdain filled Paul’s dark eyes. “You always did like him better than me, didn’t you?”
Fear came alive. Churning in my gut and stampeding through my spirit. Not the fear of the crushing emotional impact he had cast on me.
But true, gutting fear.
The kind that screamed of self-preservation.
Of the fight for life.
“Been telling you, you owe. Of course I had a whole different idea about how tonight was gonna go down…but hey…when opportunity strikes.”
My head shook, the words sticking to my dry tongue as I took another step back. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t have anything to say.”
He laughed, this maniacal, malicious sound that cut through me with sharp barbs of hatred. “You don’t have anything to say? I’ve been rottin’ in a cell for the last four years, and you don’t have anything to say?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shook my head in confusion, my voice clogged with fear. “You…you…got caught with drugs.”
Austin had told me he’d been arrested the night after I left. After he found out. He’d been pulled over for driving without a license plate, drugs in his car, possession, repeat offenses.
He cracked a smile that cut through me like a rusted knife.
He ambled forward. Almost casually.
But there was no missing the threat behind it.
He encroached.
I moved backward, just as slowly as he stalked forward.
Nowhere left to go, I knocked into a big box behind me.
“Austin.” His name was a trembled yell. The sum of it a plea. Knowing it wasn’t loud enough.
He didn’t even know I was here.
“Keep yelling, baby. No one’s gonna hear.”
Paul raked a nail down my cheek.
Vomit churned in my gut.
“But before we get to the fun part, let’s say you and I have a little chat about this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, unwrapped it, and shoved it in my face.
I flinched, but I forced myself to focus, to make out what it said.
To comprehend what it meant.
My wild eyes took in the words written on the tattered note.
Three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars more than you’re worth. But hey, sometimes you have to pay the bitch.
And sometimes payback is the bitch.
My head spun and I struggled to process it. Those vicious words roared back as if I were hearing them for the first time.
The memories I’d wanted to suppress.
Standing there begging for help and receiving nothing less than a slap to the face.
The fear.
The sorrow.
The grief.
The empty place inside me throbbed, and I squeezed my eyes closed while the words that had been added at the bottom prodded at my awareness.
Doubt and disorder.
My mouth dropped open, my tongue tied in knots. Just as tight as the knots tied in my stomach.
Paul crumbled the note back in his fist. “Funny, you know, gettin’ pulled over in your own damned car.” His tone was hard, laced with sarcasm as he spit the words. “License plate that had been there that morning gone. Five baggies of coke under your seat that you sure as fuck didn’t put there.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
My eyes squeezed tighter. Fighting the awareness.
No.
He wouldn’t.
Paul edged me farther against the box. Rancid breath choked me as he spewed his rage all over my face. He leaned in close to my ear, the oppressive weight of his forearm pressing against my chest.
Bitter laughter bled. “Sat there for four fucking years wondering who was out to get me…thinking there was no chance a stupid little slut like you would have the balls to pull off something like that.”
Slut.
The word cut and sliced and slayed.
Harshly, he shook his head. Struggling for his own control. And then he was giving in to it, and his forearm slipped up and under my chin.
I wanted to scream.
To beg him to stop.
To tell him I wasn’t responsible.
Instead it was a mumbled cry. “Please…don’t. I didn’t…”
The pressure increased on my throat. Paul’s arm pushed in deeper, cutting off my flow of oxygen, forcing up my chin. The heavy box creaked beneath me.
A whimper escaped, and I clawed uselessly at his arm.
Weak.
Please, God, don’t let me be.
I wanted to be strong.
To find the courage that Austin saw in me.
All the while trying to make sense of what he’d done. Why he’d done it.
My mind didn’t want to wrap around the fact he was responsible. The fact Paul had been texting me all this time and he’d never confessed.
I don’t understand.
Austin promised I was the only one who did.
Paul laughed again. Eyes wild. Raging with the thirst of revenge. “Such a stupid, stupid girl. They let me out early on account that I was such a good little boy on the inside. Of course they gave me back my things they’d confiscated. My clothes and my cell phone. And there it was, right in my wallet, evidence it was you all along. But that’s what you wanted, right? For me to know. What did you think it would accomplish?”
Fear shivered and raced, and I blinked through the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.
Once again, I was the fool, subject to the cruelty of Paul’s depraved, wicked hands.
“What’d you think, Edie? When I got out…what exactly did you think was going to happen? Did you think I was just gonna let this go? Because you’re going to pay like the dirty slut you are.”
A ragged cry ripped up my throat.
“No. Please. No.”
He leaned in, his breath lifting the vomit to my mouth, his murmur a blade in my ear. “Yes.”