Chelsey
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
What is wrong with me? There has to be something. Sure, Kye, come right on over and let’s drink Jack Daniel’s and play Never Have I Ever in the fucking dark!
Who the hell gave me my brain? Can I request a transplant?
’Cause, guess what? I’m a forgetful drunk, but that only applies when I’m actually drunk. Not when I’ve consumed pizza and chips and shots. No. I can remember it all.
I can remember the funny way he chased me. The way he spun me into the wall and kissed me until we needed air. I remember the way he pushed me back and had his way with me, how he dominated every inch of my body that he touched.
I remember how we came together until it felt like we were suffocating.
It’s worse this way. Now I know what I had and what I could have. What the universe is offering me.
He was gone this morning. After I lied about starting work early, he was gone. The only thing he left behind was the chill of his absence. . . . And a sock.
I run my fingers through my hair and drop my forehead to the table. “What do I do, Jessie?”
My best friend of a lifetime smacks her lips. I know without looking at her that those very same lips are tugged into an I told you so kinda smile, but that her eyes are reflecting the sympathy she really feels.
She’s the one person who knows how my upbringing affected me. She’s the only person in my life who understands how fame, long-distance relationships, and the rockstar lifestyle grate on me. She’s seen the tears and the fights and the humiliation.
She was the first person besides me to see my mom cry. We were six.
Jessie Law is undoubtedly my rock. She could just as well be my soul mate.
She’s the only person who will knock sense into me. . . . If there’s any sense left where a Burke is concerned.
“Kye is . . . special,” she says slowly, grabbing a chip and chewing it slowly. “He isn’t like the others.”
“So you say.”
Jessie shrugs. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Chels. Sofie knows him the best. They’ve been best friends for years.”
Of course—Kye was a block in her relationship with Conner. . . . And in Jessie’s with Ads. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the manwhore he disputes being daily.
“Maybe you should talk to her,” she suggests. “Sof will know what makes him tick. She’s like a Burke brother interpreter.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do? Just rock on up to her house and demand she tell me everything she did to snag Conner? When I don’t want to even snag Kye?”
Jessie rolls her eyes. “Of course not. You’re gonna go and find out what you have to do to make Kye leave you alone.”
“You’re smiling.”
“It’s a supportive smile,” she says, looking down, giving me the impression she knows more than I do. Which she probably does. “Come on. She’s home with Mila while the guys do some songwriting thing. I don’t know.”
So reassuring.
I sigh and follow her downstairs after grabbing my things. Sometimes best friends are pains in the ass, no? Especially when they seemingly know things you only wish you could know.
I slide into Jessie’s car and slam the door shut behind me. I’m not going quietly. I hope she knows this. Frankly, if she doesn’t, she’s not my best friend.
Ugh.
I’m such a fucking diva.
And I say “fuck” way too much.
Fuck it.
Who cares?
Chelsey Francesca Young, rein your ass in.
Why’d I have to use my own middle name? God. I think that’s enough to show how badly he’s screwing with me.
Fuck Kye Burke. Fuck all the Burkes. Except Mila. No one touch Mila. That kid is cute as hell.
“If you keep thinking, I’m gonna punch you.” Jessie glances at me as she passes the Burke household. “I swear to God, Chels. Pull yourself together.”
“There’s nothing to pull together. I’m fine. I just fucked the guy I promised myself I’d never fuck again, but I’m totally okay.”
My best friend takes a deep breath, and when we pull up outside Sofie’s house just minutes later, she reaches across and thumps my arm. I narrow my eyes at her as I get out of the car. It didn’t hurt—her tongue is sharp but her upper body strength leaves plenty to be desired—but still. I guess I did deserve it, but whatever.
Jessie knocks on the door and Mila’s face appears immediately at the living room window. Her tiny cheek is flat against the glass, her nose squished sideways, but she’s grinning.
The front door opens and Sofie glances between us. “Uh-oh. Unplanned visits from the terrible twosome are never good.”
I curl my lips to the side. “Shut up. I’m here under duress.”
Sofie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Duress, huh? Jessie?”
Jessie smiles sweetly and shrugs a shoulder. “Desperate times and all that. We need your help.”
“Kye’s still bugging you, isn’t he?” Sof sighs and steps back into the hall. “Come in. Mila’s due for her nap now so we can talk.”
We follow her inside, and Mila screams with excitement when she sees us. Sofie crashes her dreams by scooping her up and grabbing her dolly.
“No nap!” Mila shrieks. “No nap!”
Without a word, Sofie carries her upstairs and sets her down. The whole time Mila shouts the same words, only broken by the theme song of a kids’ TV program. A door closes, and the sound of Sofie coming back downstairs follows.
“Sorry about that,” Sofie says. “Coffee?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
We all make our way to the kitchen and Sofie shuts the door when Mila gives the most devastating high-pitched scream I’ve ever heard in my life. I look up at the ceiling when she follows it with another equally eardrum-bursting cry.
“Is she . . . okay?”
Sofie looks at me with a small smile on her face. “Daddy isn’t here,” is her simple answer. “She rarely naps anymore, but it’s important for her to have quiet time. For me, too,” she adds. “She’ll cause a fuss for a couple of minutes then realize I turned her TV on and give up. I’ve got an hour on a good day, but it means I can load the dishwasher without her putting the dirty cutlery back in the drawer at least.”
And that sentence right there says how different her life is from mine. An hour of nothing to me is time to read, maybe order and eat a pizza, take a bath. . . . To Sofie, it’s loading the dishwasher. If she’s lucky.
Sometimes parents don’t get enough credit.
I glance at the dishwasher. “Do you need to do it now?”
Her eyes follow mine and she waves a hand. “It’s okay. I’ll do it when Conner is reading her a bedtime story.”
Jessie reaches down and opens it, and I grab the silverware basket.
“What are y’all doin’?” Sofie says, her voice just above a whisper.
“Your dishwasher,” Jessie answers. “If we’re monopolizing your time, the least we can do is empty and load your dishwasher.”
“What she said,” I add, opening and closing the drawers until I find the one with the tray holding the cutlery.
“Y’all are crazy.” Sofie sniffs, and when I look up, she refuses to meet my eyes. “Now get on with it unless you wanna scrub my toilet, too.”
“You’re welcome, doll,” I snort, knowing how much this small thing means to her. I can’t imagine how hard it is to have a terrorizing two-year-old running through your house while you try to tidy up. Aren’t two-year-olds basically tiny human tornados?
“Thank you,” she says softly, shooting us both a fond smile. She sets mugs of coffee down on the counter next to us and leans against the stove. “Okay, now tell me why you’re here.”
Jessie hooks a thumb over her shoulder and shuts a cupboard. “Dumbass fucked Kye again and wants to know how to get rid of him.”
“Holy shit, Jessie!” I snap, slamming the cutlery drawer shut. “Spit it right out, why don’t you?”
“You did what?” Sofie coughs, setting her mug down and smacking the heel of her hand against her chest.
With one final glare at Jessie, I look down at the basket in my hands. “I, er . . . might have slept with Kye again last night.”
And what a fine fucking night it was.
At her inquiring look, I explain how we went from dinner at a restaurant to a romp on the sofa. The story is interrupted intermittently by giggles, mostly during the explanation of the Never Have I Ever game. I laugh myself a few times, too, because hey—some of the questions were kind of crazy.
Sofie sighs heavily, a smile lingering on her lips. “Do you want the truth?”
“That’s why we came,” I answer. I have a horrible feeling I know exactly what she’s going to say.
She tucks her light blond hair behind her ear and meets my eyes. They’re full of a look that hovers between sympathy and amusement, and my stomach drops at her gaze. “You won’t get rid of him,” she says after pausing for a moment. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about the Burkes in my lifetime, it’s that if they want something or someone, they’re relentless.”
“I hear ya,” Jessie mutters.
“Chels, I know you won’t like it,” Sof continues, “But Kye will pursue you until he decides otherwise. If he really, truly wants you, he’ll boomerang back every time you send him away.”
I exhale slowly, taking hold of my mug. “Even if I tell him I’m not interested?”
“Girl, you were screwing him not twenty-four hours ago. That shit don’t wash with me, never mind him.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. Damn you, greedy pussy! “So basically, I need to book a last-minute trip to the Caribbean?”
“Are you takin’ me?” Sof asks. Jessie laughs and nods.
“No. I’m going to rent a hut and hire a cabana boy and a ten-foot-high barbed-wire electrical fence to keep Kye Burke out.”
Sofie’s answering laugh is loud and sweet. “Chelsey, listen to me. I’ve been to heaven and hell with those guys—all of them. They’re relentless, sure, but they’re respectful. They’re forceful but sweet. And, by God, they can be the biggest pains in the ass I’ve ever met, but when they love . . .” She takes a deep breath and looks down. “When the Burke boys love, they love with everything they have and are. When the Burke boys love, they love forever.”
I set my mug down softly, feeling both her and Jessie’s gazes settling on me. “That’s the problem. The last thing I want is a Burke to fall in love with me.”
“Hello,” Leila sings, the front door opening and closing.
“In the kitchen,” Sofie calls, putting her mug in the dishwasher and grabbing some cleaning spray from beneath the sink.
“Hello, slutbags.” Leila grins. She focuses on me. “Hello, Queen Slutbag.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter, draining the last of my coffee.
“What?” she asks innocently. “Kye came in earlier all ‘Me Kye, me slam cupboard. Me caveman, me stomp stairs!’ ”
“Don’t blame me for his temper!”
“Dude! You banged him and made him sleep on the sofa, and he’s super pissed. Took me an hour to convince him not to march his ass around to your apartment tonight and go all whatever it is my brothers do when they’re pissed. My romances call it ‘going full alpha.’ ”
“Okay, stop.” I look at her, doing my best to ignore the way her eyes are the exact same shade as Kye’s. “It doesn’t matter. Last night was . . . a mistake. Another dumb drunken mistake.”
Leila scoots past me, and her blue eyes find mine as she pulls out the old pod from Sofie’s coffee machine. “Just as well though, right? They are only here for a couple weeks before they go back to L.A. Come December twenty-second, they’re gone, per their contract. It’s just a few more weeks.”
Sofie picks at the hem of her shirt, and Jessie focuses on the trampoline that’s visible through the kitchen window.
My heart thuds, and I deliberately force myself to shrug both shoulders in nonchalance. “Exactly. Leaving is the best thing he can do. I don’t care.”
One perfectly shaped eyebrow curves upward, and Leila’s lips twist into a smirk that reeks of her disbelief. “We’ll see.”
I want a kitten. Or a puppy.
Or something that can fill the empty hours in my apartment. Just not a boyfriend—that’s a little too much.
In the last twenty-four hours the temperature has dropped another few degrees and the weather stations are forecasting ice storms. If there’s anything I hate more than thunderstorms, it’s ice storms. I’d rather my power be knocked out than my car be iced over until next spring.
I shouldn’t be surprised that the Burkes are leaving town again so soon. What I am surprised about is that they’re leaving three days before Christmas—three days before Conner’s first Christmas with Mila. Sofie said she wasn’t planning on taking Mila to California over Christmas since her brother has leave from the army, so would Conner really leave her? And while I know Ella has plans to go with them, would Jessie?
I know the answer to that. No. Jessie would never leave her parents and Sas over Christmas. Not this soon into her relationship with Aidan.
And why the hell would Kye pursue me when he knows he’s about to leave?
My aversion to rock stars is hardly a well-kept secret. My attraction to one may put a kink in that aversion slightly, but it’s still there. I have no intention of ever attaching myself to a gentleman in the same profession as my cheating asshole of a father.
I know it’s wrong to assume, but it’s so easy to distrust. After all, I did spend a year with him on tour. I experienced his revolving door of groupies firsthand. I saw how many women he “wham, bam, thank you ma’amed” in that short time.
I still bear the scars of seeing scantily clad chicks barely older than me stumbling out of the tour bus the morning after a show. Sometimes, two or three of them fell out.
I only just stopped having nightmares about those particular scenarios.
I groan and bury my head in my hands. I feel like I’ve done that a thousand times in the last few days. This stuck-in-limbo thing makes me feel like I’m sixteen again and wondering whether or not the cute boy at the back of my math class thinks I’m pretty, or whether or not my on-again-off-again jock boyfriend will ask me to the prom.
A part of me wants to storm into Kye Burke’s house—after knocking and greeting his parents, of course—and demand he tell me exactly what he thinks he’s doing with me.
The rest of me wants to barricade my front door, call in sick to work with the flu, and hope he forgets about me.
Both are totally viable options, and it’s the epitome of girl problems, isn’t it? We always come up with multiple scenarios, wondering and worrying about what’s going on, whereas guys just go with whatever pops into their head. But no, no. Let’s take our estrogen-filled asses and let’s think every single fucking thing through until we’re miles away from the original thought.
You know what? Fuck this. I’m gonna do the guy thing.
I grab my keys and phone, and, still in my yoga pants with my hair bumpy from its scruffy workout knot, I run out of my apartment. The slam of the door echoes down the hall. It’s raining again, and having forgotten my coat, I have no choice but to suck it up and run down the length of the parking lot. I’m only marginally wet when I reach my car, and I shake my head when I settle into it.
“Brrrrr.” I shiver as the slight chill rushes through me and turn up the heater.
I make it to the Burke family home in only a few minutes. I guess everyone is off the roads in anticipation of the ice storm that’s been forecast for two days now . . . and hasn’t happened. Typical.
The driveway has three trucks in it, and when I pull up behind the one I recognize as Kye’s, I hesitate. My fingers hover over the keys as it runs through my mind whether or not this is a good idea.
No, it isn’t.
I should leave.
But then the front door opens and Mrs. Burke brings out a trash bag. I take a deep breath and watch as she takes it to the can and drops it in, then turns. “Chelsey?”
Shit.
I kill the engine and tuck my keys into my palm. “Hi, Mrs. Burke,” I say, getting out of my car. “Is . . . uh, is Kye around?”
Her mouth breaks into a wide smile, one that’s reflected in her eyes, and she ushers me toward the house. “He sure is, doll. Why don’t you come on in and get yourself something to drink? You look like you got caught in this here rainstorm.”
“I have a habit of not checking the weather before I leave.” I shrug. I’m not lying, after all. I just left in a super rush.
“Well,” she says, tucking her arm around my shoulders. “Come in and I’ll fix you a cup of coffee. How’s that sound?”
“Honestly? Really good.” I laugh, and her own warm chuckle fills the hallway.
“Now you go take a seat in the kitchen and I’ll see if that boy is out of his bed.” She points toward the doorway that leads to the kitchen. I nod, unwilling to argue with her, and shuffle into the kitchen. “Kye!” she yells, going up the stairs. “Kye Burke!”
I grimace. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I was planning. I mean, it’s fucking eleven a.m. Why is he still in bed?
“What?” I hear him groan.
“Get your ass outta bed.” Several knocks on the door sound. “You’ve got a visitor.”
“Mom, I was up all night working. I’m tired. Tell them to come back.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll tell her to leave. She’s only soaking wet from the damn rain, but let’s consider your lack of manners! I didn’t raise you like this, Kye Burke! Get your ass outta bed and down those dang stairs and pretend to be the gentleman I know you can be!”
“Wait, she?” he replies, and a floorboard creaks. “Who is ‘she’?”
“Chelsey Young,” Mrs. Burke replies almost smugly. “And she just heard all of this.”
“Fuck it!”
I cover my mouth with my hand and look at the table. I’m barely perched on the edge of a chair, but this table is large enough to feed five hundred. Even with the fresh flowers in the center and mugs set out in front of every chair on top of a soft white tablecloth.
Mrs. Burke’s laughter follows her into the kitchen. She settles her eyes, bright blue like Kye’s, on me, and grabs the mug in front of me. “So, coffee?”
“Please.” I edge onto the seat fully and rest my forearms on the table. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I ask, “Does he always sleep this late?”
She rocks her head side to side. “Always? No. But I happen to know that last night when he claims he was working, he was actually playing PlayStation.” She shoots an amused half-smile over her shoulder to me. “So he can play that card with me all he likes, but I heard him cussing out some Hungarian guy at two a.m.”
The thought of Kye Burke, multimillionaire, world-famous, much-beloved guitarist playing PlayStation at two in the morning has my lips splitting into a wide grin. And, dare I say it, my stomach flutters.
How many people in his position do that?
“So,” she continues, “Cream and sugar, darlin’?”
“Yes, and no, thank you.”
“Got it. Where was I? Oh, that’s it.” She bustles around the machine, taking the milk from the fridge. “I think he’s feeling a little lost since all his brothers moved out. He and Aidan used to play together when they thought me and their dad were sleeping.” She sighs, and with a fond glimmer in her eyes, sets the mug full of hot coffee in front of me. “I do miss them.”
“I’m sure you do,” I say softly. “But the peace has to be nice, right?”
She merely winks as footsteps thunder on the stairs. Leila comes flying into the kitchen and looks at her mom. “I heard Chelsey was here?”
“I said that minutes ago. You’re slippin’, girl,” Mrs. Burke responds.
Leila spins. “Hey! What are you doin’ here?”
More thuds on the stairs. “Not everyone comes here to see you, Leila.”
“How about you bite me?” Leila snaps back, fiddling with the coffee machine. “Did I hear Mom say you just got outta bed? Up all night playing Battlefield again, nerd?”
Kye’s nostrils flare, and he frowns at his sister. “I wasn’t playin’ Battlefield! I was workin’!”
Bright blue eyes rimmed with long eyelashes cut to me hesitantly. I lift my mug to my lips to hide my smile but keep my eyes focused on Kye. “Morning, lazy.”
His expression softens—but only a little. “I’m not lazy. I’m exhausted.”
Leila snorts and pulls her mug from the machine. “Your kind of exhausted is like a hangover; it’s self-inflicted, so if you think you’re getting any sympathy, you can kiss my squat-toned ass.”
My smile simply grows, so I sip my coffee before he notices.
“Do you have to be so fuckin’ vulgar all the time?”
“Says the guy who just said ‘fuckin’.’ ”
Mrs. Burke presses her fingertips to her forehead and shoots a look to me. “Chelsey, I don’t miss them. Not at all. Not right now anyway. These two are bad enough.”
“Hey!” Leila protests. “I’m a fucking delight!”
Kye snorts. “When your mouth is shut. Now move your ‘squat-toned ass’ because I want coffee, and you’re in the way.”
Well then.
“Mom, are you gonna let him talk to me that way?”
“Mom, Kye’s being mean to me,” Kye mutters in a high-pitched tone. “Mom, Kye made me move. Mom, I’m lucky Kye didn’t put me through a window.”
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “How old are you?”
Leila smirks triumphantly. “See? You’re awful.”
“Both of you!” I protest. “I feel like I’m back in high school just watchin’ y’all.”
Kye takes his mug and looks at me. “The most pathetic thing is that this is nothin’. All five of us together . . .”
“It’s a zoo at feeding time,” Leila finishes.
Mrs. Burke takes a deep breath and looks between them. “All right. Chels, I’m real sorry you have to see me mama their asses, but here. Leila, you’re comin’ shoppin’ with me. Kye, you have to get the tree like you promised.”
“Mom,” Kye groans. “I hate those tree lots.”
“Christmas tree?” I sit up straight. “I love Christmas tree shopping.”
“Even in the rain?” he asks me, his lips curving.
I look out the back door. The rain has fizzled out to barely a slight drizzle, and I shrug. “Well, no.”
Apparently Mrs. Burke notices it, too, because she turns to me with a smile. “It’s stopping.”
“For now . . .” I pause as it sinks in. I’m getting backed into a corner here, aren’t I? “Who knows when it’ll be back? We all know winter is freaky here.” I glance at Leila. Help me out here, girl.
“Wear a jacket,” the traitorous bitch suggests, an evil gleam in her eye. “It’s not like you’re working today, right?”
“I . . . right.”
Kye catches my eye, and I can’t decide if he’s laughing at me or celebrating the fact his family members have unwittingly forced me into it. At least his mom did it unwittingly. Leila knew exactly what she was doing.
“All right then,” Kye says, pausing to drink the rest of his coffee. “I guess I better get ready.”
I roll my eyes. I guess he should.