Pause (ROCK HARD Book 2)

by Kat Mizera

  “Stu, why don’t you stay at the house?” Gran asked me. “I’ve renovated the downstairs so it’s quite livable now. The upstairs is a bit of a mess, but you can sleep in my room.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I told her. “I was planning to swing by, but that’s your home for now, so we’d never intrude like that.”

  “Having people I love in my home is never an intrusion.” She closed her eyes. “I’m going to rest now. You’ll be back later.”

  I smiled and got up, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “See you later, Gran.”

  My parents and I filed into the hallway and I asked about what the doctor had told them.

  “She had two blocked arteries,” Dad told me. “And they put stents in. So far, everything looks good, but she’ll need help for a while.”

  “I wish I could stay, but we go back out on tour in four weeks.”

  “Then you should stay for four weeks,” Mum said dryly.

  “There are rehearsals and planning out a whole new show,” I responded. “It’s not easy to put together and I have to be there for most of it.”

  “Of course you do. It’s so convenient that you’ve built a life eight thousand kilometers away, leaving us behind.”

  “You mean like you left me behind when I was in prison?” I snapped.

  “Well, what were we to do? We couldn’t move to California!”

  “You could have called, written, or sent emails,” I responded, “but your reputation here in town was far more important than your son.”

  “We have to live here,” she cried, her eyes filling with tears. “You did a terrible thing and we face the stigma every bloody day! It’s not—”

  “I had a terrible accident,” I interrupted, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

  “All right, let’s not air the dirty laundry in the hallway,” Dad said quickly. “And here’s Lindsay.”

  Lindsay wasn’t just intelligent but extremely intuitive and I could tell by the way her eyes sharpened, she was aware she’d stumbled into something intense. She automatically moved to my side, threading her fingers through mine.

  “What did I miss?” she asked pleasantly.

  “We were just talking about who’s going to care for Stu’s grandmother once he’s left for America. We have jobs and responsibilities as well.”

  “With your healthcare system here in the U.K., isn’t there any coverage for home care for an elderly person after something like this?” She looked innocent and guileless, but she hit my mother where it hurt because Mum didn’t know the answer and looked chagrined.

  “I, er, I’m not sure,” she said after a moment. “I haven’t looked into it.”

  “We should definitely look into that and then I’m sure Stu and I can help pay for some help for her until she’s on her feet again. I should be working by the end of the month and—”

  “It’s all right, lass, I’ve got it covered.” I squeezed her hand and looked at my parents. “Well, it’s been lovely catching up. I’m going to take Lindsay to see my house and perhaps take a ride about town. We’ll be back to see Gran later.”

  “Stephen asked about you,” Mum called after us as we walked down the hall.

  “He knows my number,” I shot back.

  I didn’t realize how fast I was walking or how hard I was squeezing Lindsay’s hand until she tugged at me a bit. “Stu, slow down, please.”

  “Sorry.” I caught myself and relaxed the death grip I had on her fingers.

  “I know it’s hurtful, but it might help to talk things out and get everything off your chest,” she said.

  “Not in a hospital corridor right outside Gran’s room.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Look, I really don’t want to talk about all that. If an opportunity presents itself while we’re here, I definitely have a lot to say, but my focus is my grandmother. The other stuff is background noise.”

  “But Stu—”

  “Lass, listen.” I turned to her as we stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind us. “I love you for trying to help, I do, but this isn’t something a simple conversation is going to fix. There’s a lot of backstory you don’t even know and this isn’t the time to delve into it.”

  “Then when is?” she countered. “Your family is important. Everything else, the press and social media and all that, I get why you just want it to stop. But this? We’re talking about your parents, your brother, a nephew you’ve never even met… How long are you going to let it eat at you? Because it definitely eats at you.”

  I sighed. “I know, but I have to sort it out in my own way, my own time. Please respect my wishes on this.”

  She hesitated but then nodded. “I’m sorry, babe. I just see how much it’s hurting you, and I hate it, but I’ll butt out.”

  “I don’t want you to butt out,” I said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “I just need time to process everything now that I’m back in Scotland for the first time in seven years.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, would you like to see my house?”

  “You have a house?”

  “I do. When we got our first advance for Waking Wonder, I thought the best thing would be for me to invest in a house so that if everything went to hell, I’d have a place to live. I found this old, falling apart place, remnants of what you might consider a castle—but not that big—and paid cash for it. Figured I’d spend my time when I wasn’t touring, working on it. Never got to it, but Gran moved in while I was in prison and got the electric and plumbing modernized. She had control of all my assets while I was in prison, so she used some of the money to make it habitable since I’d originally thought I’d come back to Scotland when I got out.”

  “So why did you stay in the U.S.?”

  “Partly because of my probation and then I was thinking about leaving when I met the lads from Nobody’s Fool and they gave me a reason to stay.”

  “Are you an American citizen?”

  “No, but I’m a permanent resident.”

  We made small talk as I took familiar roads toward my house. I’d loved the location, halfway between Dingwall and Inverness, somewhat secluded, and with a bit of land. It had been uninhabitable when I bought it, and there hadn’t been time to do much because Waking Wonder was taking off and touring. I’d left a little money with Gran and she’d had a new roof put on, which had wiped out my resources at the time.

  She’d asked if she could live there while I was in prison, since it needed someone to keep an eye on things, and she’d said the money she would save by not paying rent at her flat could be put into small updates. I’d been so miserable in prison, and so grateful to have her taking care of things for me, I’d agreed without asking too many questions. I knew she’d decided to stay in the house since we’d discussed it when I’d been talking about moving back to Scotland, but I’d told her I didn’t mind living together. She’d mentioned fixing up a small section of the house to make it livable for her, but she’d never told me she’d continued renovations.

  “Is this it?” Lindsay asked, excitement in her voice as I pulled into the long, rocky driveway. “Wow, Stu, this is amazing!”

  She was right; it was fucking amazing. Gran had been up to a lot more than just a few upgrades here and there. The grass was lush and green, beds beneath the windows blooming with flowers. The stone walkway leading up to the front steps had been fixed because it looked new, and when I’d bought the place, the stones were black, molded, and cracked.

  “What has she done?” I murmured to myself. “She didn’t tell me she’d done so much.”

  “I can’t wait to see inside,” Lindsay said, getting out of the car and looking around. “I can’t believe you own this! My history-loving self would explore every inch of the house, the grounds, and the nearby towns.”

  I smiled, following her up the path as I dug out my keys. This would be the first time since I’d bought the place that I opened the front door using keys. The realtor had always unlocked i
t while I’d been looking, and nothing had been locked the day we’d closed. I’d gotten duplicate keys made for Gran and then left Scotland; this was the first time I’d been back.

  I slowly unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

  Bloody hell.

  My grandmother had made the place more than livable.

  She’d turned it into a home.

  21

  Lindsay

  I hadn’t been expecting much when he’d mentioned buying an old, run-down house, but this place was magnificent. High ceilings, stained glass windows, and what appeared to be original stone walls. It was hard to tell because everything looked like it had been cleaned and refinished, but the historical elements hadn’t been lost and I was already in love with it.

  “If we ever get married,” I said without thinking, “I’d want it to be right here in this house.”

  If he was turned off by the idea of marriage, it certainly didn’t show in his reaction. Those incredible eyes of his were fixed on me with a wicked gleam to them.

  “You sure you’ve no Scottish blood, lass?” he asked.

  “Not to my knowledge, but you never know!” I grabbed his hand. “I want to see everything.”

  We continued through the big main room to a formal dining room that was empty, a laundry room that looked brand new and modern with a washer and dryer, and into a huge, well-lit, and partially renovated kitchen. The floors had been redone with some sort of stonelike flooring that matched the original house, though it looked like the process of modernizing everything was ongoing.

  “She’s lost her mind,” Stu said, looking around. “I don’t know how she’s afforded all this and I know she only spent my money on the roof, plumbing and electrical, because that stuff wasn’t optional.”

  “It looks like she’s doing it in increments,” I said. “And since you’ve told her she can live here as long as she likes, maybe it makes her happy to have a home to renovate. You said your grandfather died a long time ago, right?”

  “When I was ten. She married twice more but they both passed a while ago.”

  “So she’s been alone a long time. This might be something that keeps her happy and young.”

  He glanced at me. “You’re probably right.”

  “Let’s go see the upstairs,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows. “Maybe there’s a big four-poster bed with velvet drapes that Mary, Queen of Scots, used to get naked on.”

  He arched a brow at me. “If you want to get naked, lass, just say so, but Mary, Queen of Scots, did not have sex in my house.”

  “How do you know?” I countered playfully.

  He paused. “Well, that would have been a big deal, so I figure someone would have said something.”

  I laughed and ran up the stairs with him right behind me. The hallway was narrow but it looked like there were a lot of bedrooms, so I headed to the one with double doors since they were closed.

  Okay, that was disappointing.

  No four-poster bed.

  No velvet anything.

  In fact, no anything but dust and cobwebs.

  “Sadly, I’m going to say no to sex in this room,” I said, pretending to scowl.

  He laughed. “I’m going to have to agree.”

  “Is this the master bedroom?”

  “Yeah. Gran said she hasn’t touched the upstairs, but let’s have a look around.”

  I followed him down the hall to a bathroom that had seen better days. It was filthy, the toilet looked at least fifty years old, and the mirror was so cracked it looked like it would crumble off the wall at any moment.

  “Gross.” Stu walked out and we checked out four more small bedrooms and another bathroom.

  “I’d say the whole upstairs could be redone,” I said. “This weird-shaped bedroom next to the master could be transformed into a walk-in closet and/or a private sitting room…and then make the master bath bigger. It would be a huge undertaking, but it would add so much value to the house, plus make it an amazing place to live.”

  “Would you live here?” he asked softly. “In Scotland, I mean.”

  I turned. “Well, not now, obviously; we’re both on the brink of exciting new things with our careers, but in general? Like in ten years when we’ve attained success and are ready to maybe sit back and talk about babies and that kind of thing? Absolutely.”

  He bent his head and kissed me with soft sweeping swirls of his tongue, one hand at the small of my back, the other digging into the hair at the nape of my neck. I wound my arms around his neck and held on for dear life, something magical about kissing him in this house—his house.

  “Hallo? Anyone home? Stu, that you?” A deep male voice called from the bottom of the stairs and Stu pulled away in frustration.

  “We’ll pick up where we left off when I find out who this is.” He went to the top of the stairs and looked down, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Who’s there?”

  “Stu? It’s Stephen.”

  “My brother,” he said under his breath. “Up here,” he called out. He took my hand and we went back down the stairs.

  “There you are.” A man about Stu’s age, maybe a little older, stood at the foot of the stairs holding a baby in his arms, a petite redhead beside him.

  “It’s been a long time,” Stu said as we reached them, his stance guarded.

  “Bloody hell.” Stephen handed the baby to the woman and pulled Stu into a hug. Stu hesitated at first but then wrapped his arms around him and the two men hugged tightly.

  “I’m Lorraine,” the redhead said to me, smiling. “This is Stuart, our little boy.”

  Stu pulled away from his brother before I could answer, staring at the woman and then back at Stephen. “You named him after me?”

  “You’re my brother,” Stephen replied, meeting Stu’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “We haven’t had much of a relationship lately.”

  “And that’s my fault.” Stephen looked sincere. “But come, meet my wife, Lorraine, and your nephew.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Stu gave Lorraine a one-armed hug and then she held the baby out to him.

  Stu hesitated but then scooped up the baby, who looked about six or seven months old, and gently held him against his chest. “Well, hello, little one. I’m your uncle Stu.”

  The baby reached out and promptly stuck his fingers in Stu’s mouth and Stu playfully pretended to eat them, making the baby laugh.

  Children had always been a someday kind of thing for me. I wanted them eventually, but not for a long time, until my future husband and I had done all the things we wanted to do professionally and were financially set. Watching Stu holding a baby made my ovaries scream out with longing and the mental image of Stu holding our baby someday made me want to swoon.

  “He’s beautiful,” I breathed, touching the baby’s arm.

  Stu cleared his throat. “Stephen, Lorraine, this is my girlfriend, Lindsay.”

  We exchanged greetings and then continued to just stand there, with Stu still holding his nephew.

  “Why don’t we go in the kitchen and I’ll brew us a cuppa?” Lorraine suggested.

  “Right.” Stu followed, still holding baby Stuart, talking to him, and making him giggle.

  “So, how long can you stay?” Stephen asked as we settled in the kitchen.

  There was a small table with two chairs by the window and Stu sat in one, bouncing Stuart on his knee.

  “Just a week or so,” Stu admitted. “Maybe two weeks if Gran really needs me, but we’re about to start rehearsals for a much bigger tour, so I can’t stay away too long, and Lindsay is starting a new job soon.”

  “What do you do, Lindsay?” Stephen asked politely.

  I gave them the same explanation I’d given Stu’s parents but instead of sarcasm, Stephen seemed genuinely interested as he asked questions.

  “That’s impressive,” Lorraine said, getting out four mugs. “I did three years for nursing school, but to do another three on top of that sounds intim
idating.”

  “You’re a nurse?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I work in A&E—accidents and emergency.”

  “What do you do, Stephen?”

  “I’m the band teacher at the local high school.”

  “So the whole family is musical?” I asked.

  “Well…” Stephen glanced at Stu with what looked like curiosity. “Haven’t you told her about the family?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t,” Stu replied, not looking up. “Haven’t had much to say about the family since I got out of prison.”

  “I know.” Stephen looked so much like his brother, especially now, dark eyes just like Stu’s, filled with regret. “We were thinking we’d have you over to the house for dinner. It’ll be nice to spend some time together… Talk.”

  “It all depends on Gran,” Stu said, “but yeah, I’d like that.”

  Stuart started to fuss and Lorraine picked him up as the four of us drank our tea and they asked a million questions about Nobody’s Fool.

  “I think ‘Bedroom Lies’ is my favorite,” Lorraine said. “It’s hard rock but with just enough pop to make my feet start to move.”

  “You’ve bought the album?” Stu seemed surprised.

  “Of course we’ve bought the album!” Stephen playfully cuffed him in the ear. “Lorraine made all of the nurses in A&E buy it too. The ones who like rock, anyway.”

  “So how long have you two been dating?” Lorraine asked me.

  I glanced at Stu, who smiled. “It’s not that black-and-white. We first started hanging out at the end of May. I went to Vegas to see the band play—my best friend, Lexi, is the lead singer. But then I had to go back to Minneapolis because I was studying for the bar exam. We saw each other again about a month later, and then again a few weeks after that. That’s when we realized we wanted to be…together.” I wasn’t sure how to explain the sex-turned-into-something-more evolution of our relationship.

  “We met last year too,” Stu added. “So a friendship has been building slowly over time. Once we got to spend time together, we realized there was something more than friendship there.”