Iris thought about those words as they hung up. Jesus, was he right? Her entire life, she’d been so sure of everything that turned out to be so wrong. Now, when she was afraid—terrified—over everything being wrong, was it finally right?

Why couldn’t anything be simple? She dialed Sara just because she needed her friend’s voice, but what she got was a trill of excitement in her ear before she could even get a word out. “Guess what!”

Iris had to hold the phone away from her ear. “What?”

“You get to go with me to an Aesthetic Ruin concert.”

Surely she hadn’t heard that correctly. “Um. Ahem. Excuse me?”

“This is what you need, Iris. Trust me. There is nothing like watching Elijah Vance strut around shirtless and sweating and snarling for an hour and a half to take your mind off what’s troubling you.”

Hardly, Sara. Hardly. Mentally, she scrabbled for the excuses the Iris of old would have given. “I don’t like that kind of music. You know that.”

“Oh, to hell with what you like! A rock concert is an amazing way to blow off steam. I scored two pit tickets last week, and I was going to go with Mason, but that slimy rat bastard bailed on me. So now you get the other ticket. I should have offered it to you to start with.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’ll have a good time. For God’s sake, even if you don’t, it has to beat staring at the walls all night. At least stare at some molten man candy. I won’t take no for an answer on this. I’m coming to your house, I’m dressing you, and I’m taking you out. And we’ll try to get our fine asses backstage, because Eli needs me.”

Iris couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. It was high and wild and sounded half crazed. “He needs you?”

“Hell yes, he does. Poor baby just found out he’s probably not his youngest kid’s dad. You know, I always thought his ex-wife had something going with Nic Steele before she and Eli divorced. That all happened just way too fast. I called bullshit on all that ‘amicable split, respect our privacy at this time’ crap when she was out with Nic within two week of the announcement. I forget nothing.”

People like Sara would be her biggest problem, Iris decided. “Hmm. I wouldn’t know.”

“Look, Nic Steele is hot, but I don’t know how anyone in her right mind could have Elijah fucking Vance in her bed and even dream of kicking him out. Jesus Christ. Have you seen the man’s eyes? They’re so green they’ll melt the panties right off you.”

“Sara.” She didn’t know what to say.

“You think you have problems? Imagine being one of them right now, with the whole world all up in your private business.”

“Sara. I can’t go.”

“You are. I don’t care if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. Because I can’t miss this show, Iris. I haven’t seen Ruin in years. And I’m not going by myself. So you have to, or I’ll hate you forever.”

“Surely there’s someone—”

“There’s you. You’re my date. Make out with me a little in the crowd and maybe they’ll be impressed and invite us backstage.”

“I’m not making out with you, Sara. Sorry.”

“Are you saying I’m not hot?”

“You’re smoking hot, but I’m still not making out with you.” Although, she had to kind of chuckle at the thought of Elijah getting a glimpse of that from the stage. If she went to the show with Sara, and if she decided to go see Elijah backstage, she wouldn’t be able to do so without tipping her friend off to the whole thing, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. It sounded like Sara was so smitten over Eli that she might hate Iris forever.

But damn, imagining the look on her face . . .

“So what do you say?”

“According to you, I don’t have a choice. But trust me when I say this is a bad idea.”

“Why? Afraid you might bump into a hot tattooed metalhead in the pit that makes you forget all about Daddy?”

Not in the least, when Eli would be right there on stage. “Stop calling him that.”

“You’re no fun. But I’m going to make you have fun. It’s my mission in life to get you out of your apartment and to rejoin the world of the living.”

“I’ll rejoin the world of the living when I rejoin the world of the gainfully employed.”

“No you won’t. You’ll still sit and mope. But I’m going to wear you down. By the time that concert gets here, you’ll be begging to go, if only to shut me up.”

Iris sighed. She was beginning to think she was already at that point.

––––––––

IT HADN’T BEEN FUCKING easy giving her the space she needed. He’d thought focusing all his attention on Dylan’s recovery might help, and it did. But now Dylan was almost back to his normal, playful self, and didn’t need nor particularly want Dad hanging around all the time, waiting on him hand and foot. When Heidi picked the boys up to take them home so Elijah could get his head back into show mode, he found that the emptiness of the house grated on him in a way it never had before.

This summer had changed everything for him, and now, goddammit, he couldn’t abide it going back to the way it had always been. He’d always considered himself a lone wolf, content not to have to answer to anyone, but he was lonely. The pounding metal he channeled through his house and his head didn’t fill that void anymore.

Before, when he had problems, he would write music. But when he pulled out those lyrics he’d begun on the bus, staring at the two lines until they blurred, nothing came to him. He could wax poetic all day long about hate and pain and rage. When it came to . . . to love, he couldn’t go there.

There was no reason he should have to, but something was twisting in his chest, and he wanted it out and into the world so it wouldn’t plague him anymore. Maybe if he could find the right words, the right melody, it would exorcise it like the right prayer might dispel a demon. He could hope.

He didn’t know what that precious woman had done to him, and he didn’t necessarily like it. But he couldn’t find any anger toward her over it. Where she lived in his heart, there was only peace and reverence. There was no room for anything ugly where her light resided in him.

His band flew in a few days before the San Diego date, assembling for a couple of rehearsals before their last run. All the guys seemed subdued, especially Quin, who showed up straight and ready to work, but would never quite meet Elijah’s eyes nor speak to him unless he absolutely had to. And Eli made damn sure that he absolutely had to, if only to be an asshole. Because he was pretty sure he knew who the mole had been.

Quin and Heidi had never liked one another, true, but given the tension between Eli and his guitarist lately, Quin might have liked Eli a little less. Enough to pull the most dickish move in the history of their relationship, though? It was saying a lot, when he really thought back on that history.

Yeah, Quin was totally capable of doing it, no doubt. The more Eli forced interaction between them, the more he became sure of it. But he waited, biding his time, until he could catch Quin as he was leaving, heading to his waiting car in the balmy evening air.

“I want to know why you’re such a fucking asshole, Quin. Do we need to knock the living shit out of each other to get this out, or what?”

Quin turned and stared at him with dead eyes. He wasn’t high right now, Elijah didn’t think, but it probably hadn’t been long.

“I mean, I think we’re too old for that high school shit,” Eli went on, “but I’m game if you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why, man? Heidi said you told her about Iris and me. Sent her pictures and everything. What would you even do that for? What was in it for you?”

He saw the look of horror come over Quin’s face and wanted to laugh. The guy was too easy. “She— I didn’t—”

“You did. Don’t bother trying to deny it. She showed me the pictures.” It was a long shot, but damn if it didn’t work. The son of a bitch was shaking.

“That bitch!” Quin roared.

“That’s the mother of my children, Quin, so I’d watch my fucking mouth if I were you.”

Elijah’s mother had told him many years ago that when he was angry, truly angry, he had the devil in his eyes. Quin must have seen some fire and brimstone now, because he took a step back. Still, it didn’t stop him from saying something stupid. “They’re not yours, though, are they?”

I know this motherfucker just didn’t. So much for being too old for high school bullshit. Eli had cracked the blow across Quin’s jaw almost before he realized it, but the pain ringing through his knuckles felt fucking fantastic. Quin hit the ground, and suddenly the rest of the guys were there, Jason and Travis grabbing Elijah while Russell tried to keep Quin from surging upward. They needn’t have bothered. All Eli had wanted was that one beautiful hit, and Quin seemed content to sit on the pavement and bleed, rubbing his jaw.

“Are you done?” Jason demanded as Eli threw his hands off.

“I’m done. Question is, are you?” Eli glared at Quin as he said it, knowing he wouldn’t mistake his meaning.

“I’m not going anywhere, asshole.”

“Then stay out of my goddamn way and my goddamn business, Quin. Because you’ve really fucked shit up for me this time. Just because you’re miserable and pissed off at the world doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be. Things could be a lot worse for you, you know. If you don’t lay down the shit and get your head clear, they’re going to be. That’s a promise.”

“I don’t need any preaching from you.”

All this time, Jason had kept a tentative hand on Eli’s shoulder, as if expecting him to break loose and dive on Quin at any moment. He shrugged it off. “After our last show, you’re checking into rehab or you’re out. That’s an ultimatum. We can’t make you get help, but we can boot your ass if you don’t. You’re a different person when you’re on that shit, and not one that any of us want to be around. So that’s it. Take it or walk away now. There are any number of guys who would love to step in and take your place.”

He glanced around for support and was utterly grateful when he saw he was getting it. Jason was nodding. Travis too. Russell leaned down and shoved his hands under Quin’s arms, pulling him to his feet. “I can get behind that, dude,” Russell told him as he steadied him. Of them all, he was probably closest to Quin, or at least had the least amount of problem with him. “And it’s because we love you or we’d just send you walking.”

Well, loving him was pushing it, but Eli held his tongue. Surrounded by them all, Quin looked like a deer in headlights, but the fight had gone out of him. Facing the very real possibility of losing his band had shaken him. “What do you say?” Eli asked. “Are you with us or not? Tell us now.”

“All right,” Quin snapped. “I’ll fucking do it.”

“You’re also going to apologize to Iris, if I can ever get her to show her face again.”

Quin shuffled his feet and huffed and tilted his head back, gazing with long-suffering resignation up at the sky before biting out, “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Then we’re good. See you tomorrow.”

They watched him walk to his ride, where the driver had just gotten an eyeful, and most likely some very interesting video footage. It would probably be all over the fansites in a couple of hours, and rumors of their imminent demise would inevitably circulate. Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time. It probably wouldn’t be the last.

If he was gonna stir up controversy, he might as well go all out.