My mother had always told me I was a sucker for heartbreak. She said it with love. With affection. Like it was a compliment. She said I was a fixer. A lover. A helper.
I was sure the only thing it really did was make me a fool.
Tamar’s lips twisted into a pout. “And why not? I bet he’s hot, isn’t he?”
I shrugged an indifferent shoulder. “He’s fine, I guess.”
Wow did that lie burn coming off my tongue. He was hotter than a thousand blazing suns.
Yet somehow colder than the darkest hell.
A falling star.
One not sent as a wish, but rather a warning of what would soon burn out.
Laughing, Tamar swung her legs off to the side of the bed. “You are the worst liar I have ever met. You should see your face right now. You are actually blushing.”
A pout pinched my mouth, and I glanced at the mirror at the evidence written on my face. I looked back at her. “Fine. He’s gorgeous. And haven’t you seen him before, anyway?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve seen his band play a bunch of times back when I was working at Charlie’s, but he took over for their previous drummer about three years ago. I have never had the pleasure of meeting him.” She pushed to her feet. “But I do have to say, I am very excited to welcome him to our home.”
She fluttered her fingers over the top of my shoulder in some kind of tease as she passed by, heading back for the door.
“You say a word to him, Tamar,” I said through a hiss, close to stamping my foot. The last thing I needed was her playing matchmaker.
She touched her chest. “Who me?”
I scowled at her. “You’ve been trying to set me up since the second you and Lyrik got together. I don’t need your help. Besides, it’s not like he’d want anything to do with me.”
Was pretty sure he took one look at my kids and marked me as a foul line.
Do not cross at all costs.
Problem was, that was where I’d met him in the first place.
Out of bounds.
“You might not need my help, but you definitely need a little shove in the right direction.” She softened, the ribbing vanishing from her features. “And are you kidding me? You are gorgeous, Mia. Wonderful and beautiful and one of the best people I know. You deserve to be happy. To have every single good thing this world has to offer.”
I shook my head and headed to the closet where I was still unpacking my things. “Well, don’t worry, you get a good look at him, and you’ll see he is most definitely not the right direction.”
He was an out of control street bike flying down a dead-end street.
“Besides, don’t you think I have enough going on in my life that the last thing I should be doing is thinking about a man?”
I hadn’t even had time to mourn. Not fully. Not with this lingering fear that something was coming that I couldn’t perceive.
Her head tilted to the side. “I just . . . want to see you smile. See you truly happy. That’s all. It’s killing me that you’re going through all of this, and there’s nothing I can do.”
My smile was somber, fueled by gratitude and dampened by grief. “You’re wrong, Tamar. You already have. You’ve given us sanctuary. Safety and love. You have given us your home and your family.”
They were the ones who were there when everything felt helpless.
Hope lost.
Sorrow the conqueror.
Sadness flitted across her face. “I just wish—”
Greyson started shouting from his crib that was set up in the other room, cutting her off, “Momma. Need you! I up!”
Penny came in from the hall through the main door at the same time, softly singing her little brother’s name, as if she’d heard him calling, too.
My spirit throbbed.
Expanded and shifted.
And there was the fullness of my joy. The sound of my children. Because the truth was, I had no places left inside to be given or broken. No more risks to be taken.
They were my fulfillment.
My beginning and my completion.
And the only thing I should be focusing on right then was us.
On keeping my children safe.
Our family whole.
And once that bastard was caught, forever put behind bars, to finally focus on healing.
Tamar looked that way. “I love the sound of his little voice.” She shifted back to me. “We truly are glad you are here, Mia. I hope you know that.”
My wistful smile was real. “I do.”
“All right then . . . we’ll see you in a bit. I’m going to go finish up dinner. It should be ready at seven.”
“Are you sure I can’t help you?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be helping me plenty this summer. Finish unpacking. Relax. And don’t forget we have a special guest joining us for dinner.”
With that, she exited with a wicked, knowing wink.
And I was left wondering how I was gonna survive this.
* * *
Oh, I wasn’t.
There was no way I was surviving this by any stretch of an overactive imagination.
I was going to succumb right there at the table.
Death by mortification.
Greyson cackled this riotous laugh while he banged the spoon that he’d used as a catapult to fling a wad of mashed potatoes and gravy across the formal dining table on the tray of his high chair.
It’d splatted on Leif’s tragically gorgeous face.
“Waif! I got you! I got you!” he sang while I squeezed my eyes closed for a beat and prayed when I opened them, this would be nothing but a bad dream.
Too bad I’d heard it said it was the worst dreams that came true.
Finally, I snapped myself out of the stupor.
There was no hiding from this one.
“Oh, God, I am so sorry,” I rushed.
Shocked annoyance blazed through Leif’s expression.
A firebolt.
His eyes blinking a thousand times like he was trying to make sense of what’d just happened.
His hand came up to swipe a bit of the mess from his nose with his fingertips. He held it out to study it. It was probably a really bad time to be noticing how big his hands were.
Too late.
His mouth curled into a sneer of disbelief.
Greyson might as well have thrown a flaming bag of poop on his face. I guessed we could all be lucky it wasn’t his diaper.
I reached out and pried the spoon from Greyson’s chubby hand. “No, Greyson. Bad. That’s very bad.”
He scrunched up his adorable nose, snorting his little laugh. “I got him, Momma! I got him. Kapow!”
I could hear Tamar trying to subdue her laughter, but Lyrik just let it go. Cracking up from the belly like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. “Warned ya, man. Welcome to the Wild, Wild West. Saddle up, baby doll.”
I glanced that way.
Leif had grabbed a napkin and was wiping the mess from his face.
Finally, I jumped into action, blazing out of the dining room to the powder room right across the hall. I grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the water, racing right back in while Leif was still trying to blot the glob from his face.
The only thing he was managing to do was drop little bits of it onto his lap.
“Here . . . let me help you.” I was at his side, carefully trying to dab the mess from his face without inhaling the intoxicating aura of him.
Trying to fight the rush of dizziness I felt the second I got into his space.
Clove and whiskey with an undercurrent of sex.
The sweet, seductive smell of temptation.
All bristling with that same suggestion of disgust I’d seen written in his features when he’d seen us earlier today.
Part of me wanted to cry.
The more prominent wanted to shout at him that Greyson was just a baby. That he didn’t know any better and I was doing my best as a mother to make sure he figure
d those things out.
But I didn’t have time to do any one of those things because he was ripping the washcloth from my hands. “I’ve got it. It’s fine.”
He rubbed at the spot, cutting me a glance with the intent to demolish.
“You don’t look fine,” I retorted, teeth gritted as my inner momma bear threatened to join us at the dinner table.
She wasn’t exactly friendly.
He glared. “I said I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“He got you good, Leif!” Brendon shouted from where he sat between Leif and his dad. “Came this close to me!” He held his fingers together in a pinch. “Too bad you don’t have mad reflexes like me. You woulda missed it.”
Brown sugar eyes narrowed, though they were doing that soft thing again that I’d noticed that night, subdued warmth that was trying to make a break for it.
Or maybe he was just trying to break me.
Knock me down before I even had the chance of getting back on my feet.
“Hell yeah. My son’s wicked fast.” Lyrik grinned. Nothing but arrogant. “Sorry you got in the line of fire, man. Good job for dodging it, Brendon. Killer reflexes.”
They fist-bumped like it’d been a challenge, Greyson the pitcher, Brendon sliding home, while Leif had been struck out.
Tamar chuckled under her breath. “Leave it to my men to throw our guest under the table.”
“All’s fair in love and war, Momma Blue. Don’t you know that?” Brendon asked her.
“And this is a war?” Tamar’s brow quirked in a show of disagreement.
“Uh . . . no. It’s love. And I love my face. Have you seen me?” My nephew made a circle around his face. “Wasn’t about to stand still and let it get mucked up. No thank you.”
Penny giggled a shy sound, partially embarrassed and like maybe she wanted to hide under the table, too, but she wasn’t about to miss out on the entertainment.
“I really am sorry,” I said, a little harder, taking the cloth from him when he’d finally cleaned off his face. “He’s two.”
It was all a defense.
That strong brow twisted, the man so pretty I was having a hard time standing on solid ground. “Yeah. I know.”
“Then don’t be a jerk,” I gritted, words low and barely heard as they ground from my tongue.
He laughed a low, menacing sound, angling up to look at me. “You think my sitting here and saying nothin’ is being a jerk? You haven’t been around much, have you, princess?”
I wanted to scream.
I couldn’t help it, I inclined his direction, outrage taking hold of my senses as I spat the words, “I’ve been around plenty. Like I said, you don’t know me at all.”
Shit.
I was revealing my cards, not that I came close to having a good hand. I’d do best to fold.
Because with the tension that filled the room, there was no question it was becoming plenty clear that he and I weren’t exactly strangers.
Tamar and the kids watched us.
Lyrik watched us harder.
Leif had the audacity to smirk, rocking back in his chair far too casually. “And like I said, you’re easy to read.”
I tossed the washcloth down onto the table, wondering why the hell I’d been attracted to this asshole in the first place. “Well, I’d suggest you find yourself another book.”
Eight
Leif
I knocked back the amber liquid in the tumbler where I sat on a stool tucked up to the bar at Charlie’s. Alcohol burned down my throat and landed in a flaming pool in my stomach.
Gasoline dumped on a pit of fire.
Hell hosting a goddamn party where the demons raged and rioted and tore stuff to shit.
Gulping hard, I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest tight and thoughts fuzzy. Could feel all the frayed ends wearing thin.
Getting ready to snap.
I drummed my fingers on the bar, fingers itching for the feel of my drumsticks, praying the beat might chase away the apprehension taking hold of my senses.
What the hell had I been thinking, agreeing to come here? Should have trusted my gut and refused to listen to the music I’d felt calling to me.
Dinner had been a motherfucking disaster.
Had proven how much I didn’t belong.
An outcast.
Exiled.
A convict and a captive watching all the things he could never have from behind the bars of his cell.
Love had been so thick in that dining room that I had almost choked on it.
Knew it made me a prick that just watching Lyrik and Tamar together had left a bad taste on my tongue.
Bitterness.
Jealousy.
The adoration they had for their children had been too much to witness.
Add into the mix that woman who’d clawed herself into my every thought and desire, and then dump her kids in the middle of it?
Yeah.
That was not a good combination.
I’d wanted to disappear into the walls.
Fade into nothing.
I’d been two seconds from making an excuse and bolting when Mia’s kid had to go and use me for target practice, drawing attention to the fact that I was even sitting there when the only thing I’d wanted to do was slip out the door.
She’d thought I was annoyed at her son. A jerk who didn’t get the kid was just being a kid.
Let her think that.
It was for the better, anyway.
Hatred blistered beneath the surface of my skin. Old agony trying to bubble through where it festered and boiled.
Could hardly stand the way Mia made me feel.
The fact that she made me feel anything at all.
“Here you go.” The bartender slid another drink across the gleaming bar.
“Thanks.”
“Anything else I can get for you?” She stalled, eying me. No doubt, the girl was gorgeous, but she wasn’t doing a thing for me.
“I’m good.”
She hesitated. “You look familiar.”
I would have laughed if I wouldn’t have been cringing so hard. “Nope. Think I just have one of those faces.”
Lie.
Clearly, she’d seen me on that stage six-months ago. But the last thing I wanted was to entertain and deflect and pretend if this girl went even medium-frequency fangirl on me.
Wasn’t close to being up to it.
“Are you sure about that? I rarely forget a face, especially one that looks like yours.”
“Yup.”
“Hmm.” Her brow drew together. “Well, let me know if there is anything else that I can get you, stranger.”
She said it like I was going to bite onto the coy tease.
Finally, when I gave her nothing but a tight nod, she relented and left me there, moving on to other customers who were vying for her attention.
Bodies crushed and packed against the gleaming wood.
The place was packed.
Always was.
Charlie’s was one of the most popular bars on the river walk. The vibe cool and somehow intense. Live music almost every night. Catering to anyone who walked through the door.
You didn’t need to be a type.
You left your bullshit at the door? You were welcome.
Had become one of my favorite places to perform.
The bar was owned by Shea Stone’s Uncle Charlie. A guy who’d apparently always been quick to welcome Carolina George to play, long before I’d come in and taken over on the drums.
I curled my hand around the glass as the din of the bar roared and boomed and blustered around me.
I drew the glass to my lips, taking a long pull, fighting off the barbs of sensation that wouldn’t let me go.
Feeling that something was off.
Which was a goddamn joke because my whole life had been off since the moment I’d destroyed the one thing that mattered. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling, the air cloudy and buzzing with a darkness that consumed. Some
thing sinister slicked across my flesh, and it didn’t have a thing to do with the chick who continued to eye-fuck me from across the bar.
I shifted to look over my shoulder, gaze jumping through the faces in the raging crowd.
Couples two-stepped on the packed dancefloor at the foot of the stage, and groups gathered around high-top tables, tossing back beers and laughing too hard. My eyes searched into the murky shadows of the plush horseshoe-shaped booths that lined the far end of the space.
Nothing.
Didn’t matter. I still felt it.
History creeping up on me before I had the chance to hunt it down first.
I let my attention rove across the sea of obscured faces one more time, finally deciding that I was losing it. Giving it up, I downed the entire contents of the glass.
I welcomed the reprieve.
The shock of dizziness that pounded through my brain as the alcohol finally hit my bloodstream.
The world going slightly off kilter, sight blurring at the edges. The way my limbs felt a little lighter, for a moment not weighed down with the burden.
By what was at stake.
I pushed to my feet and dug into my wallet, pulling out a hundred and tucking it under the empty before I began to stalk through the crowd. Pushing through the throbbing bodies, I felt a disturbance. With each footstep it only grew.
Walls enclosing.
Energy rushing.
Climbing and amplifying.
Becoming something massive.
Something fierce.
Too close.
Just out of reach.
This was it. I was finally going to lose my grip on the reality that I’d barely been clinging to.
I shouldered through the throng, ignoring the few glances I got.
I inhaled, lungs filling full of the need and lust that was palpable in the dense air. I should give into it. Take of it. Feed on it.
Let it fill me.
Take away the edge.
A distraction from the pain.
But I found I couldn’t stay. Irritation pushed up from that dark place that howled from the deepest part of me. I broke through the mass, pushing through the door and out into the deep, deep night.
Music seeped through the walls and chased me out into the sticky, damp heat.
Kiss the Stars Page 9
