“I don’t like this.”

“I think she knows that, Nicholas. You’ve only told her fifteen times.”

“This place makes walk-ups seem spacious.” Nicky propped his hands on his hips and looked around the small spare bedroom where Elle would be staying with her friend Teagan for a while.

Maybe forever, but probably just two weeks.

Normally, Teagan rented it out—or Teagan and her boyfriend did, but the boyfriend was recently gone and Teagan was at loose ends and in need of some quick rent. And Elle needed a place to stay that wasn’t in California. She couldn’t go back. Not yet.

Not when everything was so different, and she didn’t know what to say. Or how to be. How was she supposed to just blithely live her life while her close friend’s husband was dead?

When it could have been her.

Should have been her, if not for—

Elle snapped her suitcase closed one-handed and pushed it under the full bed that would be hers for the duration. The room wasn’t large, with the bed, a small upright dresser, a nightstand, and a rocking chair in the corner. An equally cramped en suite bathroom held the barest necessities and a shower she might be able to shave in if she wrapped her leg around her neck.

Luckily, she didn’t have a ton of stuff. She wasn’t a hoarder while on tour. Lila had retrieved her belongings from the bus before it had returned to California, and then she’d offered to spend the next two weeks with Elle in the city. As if she didn’t have two beautiful babies waiting for her at home. And her job. A very demanding one at that. Warning Sign was on the ropes after the show in Queens, and whether or not Elle was back home, Lila had plenty of work to do. Just dealing with the press would be bad enough.

But Lila hadn’t suggested Nick stay too. She knew damn well Elle would never stay with her brother for two weeks. She loved him dearly, but Nicky’s fussing wasn’t her idea of fun. And he would fuss. A lot.

Just as he was doing right now.

“It’s plenty of space for me. Used to living on a stinky bus, remember?”

The bus wasn’t that small, though it got smaller when they kept adding band members—especially giant ones like Luc—and assorted significant others. Pockets of it could get stinky at times, due to the proliferation of males, but even that wasn’t much of a problem. Her guys were fairly tidy and clean overall. Living on the bus was almost like being in a dorm room on wheels. Friends with you all the time. Lots of laughter and no worries about ever being alone—

“Hey there. You okay?” Lila rubbed her good arm and Elle glanced at her, suddenly aware her cheeks were wet. Again.

For fuck’s sake, she couldn’t turn off the waterworks lately. It was all she ever did. Cry, and think, and sleep. Then wake up to do it all again.

That was part of why she’d opted to stay in New York a bit longer. If she was like this without being around her bandmates day in and day out, how would she be in their presence? The last thing any of them needed was for her to be sobbing her eyes out day and night. And she couldn’t seem to stop.

Besides, she’d gotten a referral for a physical therapist from her doctor. She could start treatment for her arm in New York, then continue it at home. It was sensible.

“I’m fine.” She smiled for Lila’s benefit. “Just going to miss you guys.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to come back with us? You could stay at the house for as long as you wanted. You know the girls would love to spend lots of time with Aunt Belly.”

Elle had to laugh. “Charlie is never going to drop that one, is she?”

“Probably not. She’s kind of a pain in the butt, like someone else we know.”

That someone else wasn’t paying them any mind, because he was inspecting the bedroom door as if he expected it to have a double-bolt lock. Elle sighed. “Teagan’s been a friend of mine since high school. I don’t need a huge lock to keep her out, Nicky. I’m safe here.”

“What if she has unsavory types over?”

“She works all the time and she’s fresh out of a relationship. Pretty sure she doesn’t want to have any male types over, unsavory or otherwise.” Shaking her head, she walked over to him and pushed him lightly on the back. One-armed, of course, because her arm was in a sling and still bandaged. A dislocated shoulder and nerve and tendon damage from the falling beam—along with various other contusions and a concussion—meant a bit more healing time before PT could start, but she wasn’t going to wait long.

She needed to be able to play. Pain or not, numbness or not. She had to find a way to work through her injury or she might as well not have made it.

You haven’t made it yet. You’re just in phase one.

Nicky turned around and gripped her good hand, drawing her in for a gentle hug. “I don’t like this, not because I don’t think you can take care of yourself. I know you can. I don’t like it because I want to take care of you.” He exhaled against her hair. “We lost a lot of time over the years. Had way too much distance between us.”

She didn’t reply. That distance was thanks to her drug and alcohol issues. She’d started in high school and Nick had never had a use for any of that crap. He’d smoked pot now and then, maybe drank a little, but that was the extent of it other than cigarettes. He’d discreetly tucked a crumpled pack of them into his back pocket today before carting her two guitar cases upstairs to her temporary digs. He’d quit a million times, and he’d been smoke-free for a year or more now. But he always went back when he was stressed.

Your fault for that too.

She sniffled and patted his chest before easing back. No more tears. Not today. “I appreciate it, but you have two little girls who need you. I’m just going to sit around with Teagan and talk trash about men and eat junk food. Just a little time-out.” It was cowardly, and she still wasn’t sure how she’d tell the band she wasn’t coming back yet.

If any of them truly cared. Maybe deep down they all hated her for being alive when Randy was dead.

She knew she was lucky. Blessed. But it was hard to feel that way when all she could think about was the man who was no longer with them. It didn’t seem possible. Randy’s dazzling grin was imprinted on her brain as if it had been burned into it. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Jules and Tristan were going through.

“Harper,” she said after a moment, swallowing hard. “How is she?” She shook it off before either of them could answer. “I know she has to be a wreck, losing her little brother. I can’t even fathom what she’s going through.”

Nicky pushed a hand through his already spiky hair and let out another long breath. “It’s a fucking mess. Especially because of why it—” He broke off and Lila cleared her throat.

“Why it happened? The accident? What do you mean?” Elle’s stare ping-ponged between them, but they weren’t looking at her. “Do they think it wasn’t an accident? But that doesn’t make any sense. Who would do that? Everything was checked and rechecked.”

“It’s early days,” Lila said. “Too early to know much, and it’s not for you to concern yourself with at any rate.” She smiled, her eyes far too troubled for Elle’s liking. “When we know more, something concrete, we’ll let you know. But rest assured that Donovan will leave no stone unturned. He’s bringing in the best security in the world for the tour, and the rest of the bands that Ripper manages.”

Just the word tour made Elle’s skin ice over until goosebumps formed. “We’re off for a while, right? Weeks. Plenty of weeks.” She snatched up her phone and scrolled to the calendar app with her thumb. Today’s date was circled in red, as was the date of their next show. “Three weeks away,” she said dully. “How can it be so soon?”

“I’m doing the show for you.”

Her head jerked up at her brother’s voice. “What?”

“I’m filling in for you until you’re better. So, you know, get better fast because you know how I hate sitting in with a bunch of assholes I barely know.” It was Nicky’s typical rude banter, but his eyebrows were pinched tight.

She could guess why, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to play with her bandmates, though she knew he truly did hate playing with people he wasn’t used to jamming with.

“You think it’s going to be a while.” She gazed down at her arm, practically immobilized and hidden away from even her own eyes. Damn thing itched and she hated the feeling of being bound, trapped in her own flesh.

Useless.

But you’re lucky. Remember you’re lucky. You don’t have a right to think about anything but how worse it could have been, if not for Mal.

Mal, whom she’d discovered was still in New York too. He’d chosen to hole up there rather than in California, which was probably about as strange as her decision to stay. Not that his whereabouts had any bearing on her decision. She didn’t even know where he was. But she could find out—and it wouldn’t be through Lila or her brother.

“No, I don’t. I think you’re going to do exactly what the docs say and get back to it in a hurry so I don’t have to be on two tours at once. Because that will fucking suck.”

“There are other options,” Lila said, but he shook his head.

“We made an agreement.”

“What agreement?” Elle said sharply. “How could you make an agreement to fill in for me? You couldn’t know this was going to happen.” She gripped her phone tighter and held it to her suddenly speeding heart. “Or you made an agreement before. Long before. Maybe as a condition of me getting to join in the first place. Gotta make sure there’s a backup plan for the little addict.”

Lila pressed her lips together. “That’s not exactly it.”

“My ass it isn’t.” And worse, she couldn’t even blame Lila for needing that failsafe when the record company took her on. She was a potential liability, a known risk.

Capable of falling off the wagon at any time.

“It’s not about me trusting you, or even about Donovan trusting you. Donovan has to answer to people too.”

Elle nodded. She got it, she really did. That didn’t mean it wasn’t one more hurt layered upon a dozen others. “How else have you two schemed behind my back to protect me?”

Her brother’s jaw ticked and he moved to the guitar cases stacked on the floor. He picked one up and set it on the bed, popping it open. He skimmed his fingers along the frets of her beloved turquoise guitar, one of his old ones that he’d passed on to her when she was first getting back into playing and hadn’t had a dime to her name. “I used to say you’re all I have left.” He seemed to speak to the guitar, not her. “I’m lucky enough that’s not true anymore. I have Li. The girls. Li’s parents. I have fucking Simon back again, and who knew if that would ever happen. And Gray and Jazz and Deak. Fuck, I have a lot. More than I ever expected or probably deserve.” He turned his head, pinning her with his direct golden gaze. “But I only have one sister, and I’m not going to lose her.”

“You aren’t going to lose me.” She pocketed her phone, then shifted until she could rub his back with her good hand. “Ever.”

“Damn straight I’m not.” He reached over his shoulder to take her hand, and she grasped his tightly.

“I had some problems in the past.” Biggest understatement in the world. “Of my own making, most of them. But I fought my way free. I had help, of course, so much help. I still did the work. I’m still doing it.”

She didn’t mention the bottles of pain pills she refused to touch. She’d obviously been on plenty of drugs in the hospital, but that hadn’t been under her control and she’d been too out of it in any case to think twice about what was being pumped into her system. That escape had been as welcome as sleep. It always was for her, which was why she couldn’t open those bottles. Advil would have to be enough. No matter how bad the pain got, or how many nights she tossed and turned. If she turned that key in the lock, there was no guarantee she could turn it back.

That she could stop there. Especially now.

Nicky squeezed her fingers, saying nothing.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s up to you and Li to protect me. Or to go to bat for me. I know you love me too,” she said when Lila would’ve spoken. “I never had a sister, but now I have you.”

Lila’s eyes went bright, and she nodded.

“I still need to stand on my two feet. I have to figure out how. All this time, I thought I was in the band on my own merits.”

Lila was quick to answer this time. “You are. You’re an incredible guitarist. No one can dispute that.”

“You fucking taught me to play. Damn whiz kid,” Nick added. “You’re insanely talented, and I’d be jealous of you if we didn’t share the same DNA.”

“I’m not standing on my own if he’s behind me,” she said quietly to Lila. “If the only way I can be in the band is if Nick assumes the risk of me being there, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

Even saying it scalded her throat. The band was her life. But if she couldn’t be trusted, if she had to lean on her baby brother—three minutes younger or not, still counted—then maybe she wasn’t in the right place. She had to earn her spot on her own.

“Fuck that shit.” Nicky turned to face her. “That agreement was my idea, just like you joining the band. I wanted you to know what it was like to be up there on stage. To get to live your dream every goddamned night. And you know what? You bore the weight of that dream far easier than I ever have. You’re never afraid to play.”

“But you still are, and it’s not fair to you to have to get up on stage for me,” she whispered.

“Don’t talk to me about fair when you could’ve been killed.” He kicked at the bed, sending the iron frame into the wall. “I could’ve fucking lost you, but you want me to cry that I’ve gotta do what I love for a few different crowds? Big deal. Michael is family, Jules is family, Molly is family. Even that fuckhole Mal is family. Most of those people on that stage are important to people I love, so they’re important to me. And I can do it.” He faced her, his amber eyes alive with anger. And more. “Let me do this for you. Let me be there for you for all the times I wasn’t. When I turned my back on you and let you figure shit out alone.”

She wanted to argue. She needed to. But she couldn’t say no to him, not when he saw this as some sort of balancing of the scales. It wasn’t, of course. Except feelings weren’t always based on reality.

She got that too. There was someone she felt indebted to, and no amount of assurances she wasn’t had changed that one bit. She had no clue how to begin to repay him, but she would try.

Lila’s phone buzzed on her hip and she glanced at it, her chin wobbling for a second before she lifted her gaze to Elle and Nicky. “The date of the services have been set. For Randy,” she said after a moment.

Again, the knowledge he was gone slammed into her all over again. She swayed with it, reaching out to steady herself on her brother. “When?”

“Not for a few weeks. After the first show. Randy has already been cremated.” She cleared her throat, then tipped back her head to stare at the ceiling before she continued. “This will be a celebration of his life.”

“A celebration.” She moved around Nicky to sag to the mattress, blindly grasping for her guitar still in its case as if the battered wood was her pacifier. In a way, it was. “What is there to celebrate now?” She shut her eyes as more tears filled them.

So much for not crying today. She was beginning to think there was no end in sight.

“He was a wonderful man, gave us all a lot to emulate.” Lila brushed a hand over Elle’s hair. “For Jules and Tristan, we have to try to focus on his legacy rather than what happened.”

Elle said nothing. Though she knew Lila was suffering too, it was much different for her. She didn’t feel as if every heartbeat she took belonged to another. Should have been theirs.

“He was going to be a daddy.” Elle wiped at her cheeks. “I will never understand this. And if it wasn’t an accident—”

Lila crouched before her and took her hand between both of hers. “We’ll find out what happened. I promise you.”

Elle nodded. Sure, they’d find out, but would they ever tell her? Would she ever be considered strong enough to take it?

Crying every other sentence isn’t exactly proving them of your strength, is it? Fucking woman up, Crandall.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “Thank you for everything. But you should go. The girls are waiting for you back home.”

“They’re fine,” Nicky said roughly. “We don’t have to go. Fuck, if you want us to, we’ll bed down in this two-by-four tonight with you.”

Lila didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We’ll stay. Just say the word.”

Elle smiled, probably for the first genuine time since the night of the concert. “Three of us in a twin bed would probably break the laws of gravity.” She gave Lila a gentle push. “Go on, both of you. Go kiss Charlie and Avery for me. Tell them I’ll bring them some fun stuff from here. Lots and lots of toys.”

She might not be trusted to actually handle her life without substances, but at least she had money and could spoil her nieces. She was good enough for that.

“Just bring them you, okay? Soon. Don’t make us miss you.” Lila leaned forward and cupped her head, kissing the top of her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

When Nicky didn’t so much as glance their way, Elle sighed and rose to go to him. “Don’t I get a goodbye hug, you jerk?”

He pulled her in for a quick embrace then nudged her back. “You’re going to call me every day. No, twice a day. Actually, maybe after every meal—”

She had to laugh as she cupped his scruffy jaw. He still hadn’t shaved, and she hadn’t seen him this beardy since…well, ever. “You’re such a good daddy,” she teased. “Who would’ve thunk it?”

The tops of his cheeks went pink. “It’s just practice.”

Lila came up behind him and linked her arms around his waist as she rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s more than practice, but we’ll let him keep a few of his illusions.”

“Don’t gang up on me. I’m already out-numbered at home.”

“And you love it.” Lila kissed the side of his neck, but her playfulness didn’t fool Elle for a second. Her forehead was pinched, her cheeks pale. She was as worried as Nicky, and trying like hell not to show it.

“I’ll call all the time, I swear.” Elle smiled for their benefit and took a deep breath. She tired so easily nowadays, and she’d need a nap before she did any unpacking. “And I’ll be home before you know it. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

“We miss you already. So do the girls.” Lila’s throat moved. “You know, if you need anything while you’re here, my parents are just a few hours away. They’ll come right away. You just say the word.”

“I will. But I’ll be fine.” She wiggled the fingers on her healing arm. “I’m on the mend, see? By the time I’m back I’ll be ready to duel with Nicky again.”

He snorted. “Liar. You would never duel with me.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“No, I figured you were too nice to want to smoke my ass.”

She laughed. “Get out of here. Seriously. Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“We will.” Lila waved and hooked her fingers in the back pocket of Nicky’s jeans, tugging him with her when he appeared rooted to the floor. “Have fun if you can,” she added just as Nick chimed in.

“Be safe.”

“Yes, grandma.” Elle laughed and waved to them, her face crumpling the second the door shut.

She didn’t cry so much as curl into herself, stumbling toward the bed and practically shoving her guitar case to the floor. Not like her. Not at all. But if she didn’t get horizontal soon, it would happen whether or not she wanted it to. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since… Well, since before the last show. She’d been out of it in the hospital, but half the time she’d awakened due to nightmare shapes chasing her in her sleep. Now and then, a phantom hand reached out for her just before the shape got her for good.

It didn’t take a sleuth to figure out whose hand it was. She just didn’t know what to do with slotting Mal into a whole different spot in her head.

Before, she’d either worked on ignoring him or dismissed him as her dickhead bandmate. End of story. He’d kicked her cheating ex-boyfriend’s ass on the bus once, but she’d figured that was more to expend energy that out of a desire to defend her. They’d never had so much as a real conversation not peppered with mutual insults and a heavy amount of sarcasm and eye-rolling. Their use for each other had been exactly none.

Now she was supposed to see him differently. Oh, he probably didn’t want her to. If ever there was a man who’d been slotted into a reluctant hero role, it was Mal. That didn’t mean she could forget what he’d done for her.

Ever.

She fumbled for her phone and dragged it up to her face, squinting at the screen and typing one-handed. She texted Michael, offering a quick, pithy explanation of why she was staying in New York a bit longer. Her recovery was a handy excuse, so she used it. He replied in the usual ways.

We miss you.

Wish we could have stayed longer.

Let us know if you need anything.

She responded in kind, then tried to ask her not-so-casual question about Mal’s location as casually as possible.

The proof of her strained relationship with her bandmate was that Mal evidently had an AirBnB somewhere in town yet Lila hadn’t seen fit to give her his address. Of course there was another reason for that. Elle was no dummy. Her sister-in-law saw Mal as the wolf and Elle as a little lamb in need of protection. Whether or not Mal had saved her life, it didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that Lila had a hand in raising Mal, albeit a small one as he’d been a teenager when she married his and Michael’s father.

Mal was dangerous, and Elle was formerly her own kind of danger, so according to Lila and her brother, she was to avoid Mal at all costs. Different planets would not be asking too much.

Michael didn’t answer right away. Elle chewed on her thumbnail and shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable with the stupid sling. The pain was usually manageable even without pain pills, though she still had the tingling and numbness to contend with at times. But it was hard as hell to get situated.

Several minutes later, Michael sent through an address in Queens. And a comment about Mal not expecting anything from her.

Sure, he didn’t. Why would he? He hadn’t even expected them to say hello and goodbye though they’d shared a stage for how long now? So that was more of the same.

She thanked Michael for the help and immediately surfed to the high-end musical shop she bought strings and picks from—and occasionally, a new baby for her collection. Someday she’d have a real house for her prized guitars rather than a spit-shined rack in her one-bedroom apartment in Studio City.

Someday.

After putting her selection into the cart, she paid extra for expedited shipping and copied over the address Michael had given her for Mal. Figuring out what to say in the accompanying card was more difficult. In the end, she went with simple and honest.

Thank you so much for what you did. If you ever want to talk, text me. I’ve been thinking about you.

It seemed so inadequate. So pathetic. Then again, she was being nice. Not everything she’d thought about him was kind.

Hey, even saving someone’s life couldn’t wipe out the years that had come before. It just couldn’t. But it sure as hell went a long way at blurring out some of the lesser offenses.

She made a face. Like him calling her Little Ricki just to piss her off.

Fucker.

She hit the continue button before she added that too just for spite. The fucker part not Little Ricki.

At the last second, she hit the back button and added his moniker for her to the end of the note. Let the big behemoth wonder if she was seriously referring to herself in his chosen way or if she was flipping him the bird in her own subtle manner.

She still wasn’t sure herself, but she knew one thing when she finally closed her eyes—she was genuinely smiling for the first time in days.

He was still a fucker though.

Always.