Rivers_The Crow Brothers

by S. L. Scott

  Rivers

  The Crow Brothers

  S.L. SCOTT

  Copyright © 2018 by S.L. SCOTT

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any similarities to real names of people are purely coincidence.

  Design: RBA Designs

  Photographer: Nikita TV

  Editing:

  Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies

  Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts

  Marla Esposito, Proofing Style

  Kristen Johnson, Proofreader

  Contents

  Also By S.L. SCOTT

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  The Crow Brothers

  Jet Crow - Spark

  Ridge

  Also by S.L. SCOTT

  On a Personal Note

  About the Author

  Also By S.L. SCOTT

  To keep up to date with her writing and more, her website is www.slscottauthor.com

  To receive the Scott Scoop about all of her publishing adventures, free books, giveaways, steals and more, sign up here: http://bit.ly/2TheScoop

  Join S.L.’s Facebook group here: S.L. Scott Books

  The Crow Brothers

  Spark

  Tulsa

  Rivers

  Ridge - September 2018

  Hard to Resist Series

  The Resistance

  The Reckoning

  The Redemption

  The Revolution

  The Rebellion

  The Kingwood Duet

  SAVAGE

  SAVIOR

  SACRED

  SOLACE

  Talk to Me Duet

  Sweet Talk

  Dirty Talk

  Welcome to Paradise Series

  Good Vibrations

  Good Intentions

  Good Sensations

  Happy Endings

  Welcome to Paradise Series

  From the Inside Out Series

  Scorned

  Jealousy

  Dylan

  Austin

  From the Inside Out Compilation

  Stand Alone Books

  Everest

  Missing Grace

  Until I Met You

  Drunk on Love

  Naturally, Charlie

  A Prior Engagement

  Lost in Translation

  Sleeping with Mr. Sexy

  Morning Glory

  Prologue

  Rivers

  The rain doesn’t bother me.

  Gray clouds and dark skies fit my mood better than sunny days have in years.

  I’m better off without her.

  The lies come easier these days. I used to mentally stammer over the words even if I wasn’t voicing them out loud. I thought it would become second nature to tell myself she was wrong for me. That I was wrong for her. When we were together, she was a girl becoming a woman and a beautiful fucking mess of emotions. When we were together, I was a boy becoming a man, a fuckup compared to who I wanted to be.

  But I loved her. Loved us. I loved every fucking emotion and remember them like it was yesterday.

  Only it wasn’t. It was five fucking years ago.

  “I’m better off without her.” I repeat the lie, still not believing a damn word. The words are bitter on my tongue, such a contradiction to how sweet the memories taste.

  She was my everything.

  Until she wasn’t.

  My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and I exhale a slow breath. The raindrops become sprinkles and then stop altogether. As if the universe is clearing the path for me to follow my heart, I get out of my 4Runner and lean against it, facing the school.

  Five years have dragged since I walked away, leaving my heart broken at her feet. I can’t go another day pretending she wasn’t my every-fucking-thing. That’s why I’m back. For her—Stella Lilith Fellowes.

  Star of the night.

  Star of my life.

  I miss her so fucking much, but I begin to debate if I have a right to be here at all.

  What am I doing?

  She hates me. This is such a bad idea. It’s after five, so she might not even be here. I open the door to leave but still when I hear, “Rivers?”

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and am slow to exhale. It starts drizzling again. Is this a sign? Will we always be trapped under a dark cloud, or can we find blue skies again?

  When I turn around, my breath stops hard in my chest.

  She’s absolutely stunning.

  I’ve rummaged through a box of photos a million times. I’ve watched video upon video on the loneliest of nights. I’ve had dreams that feel so real that I wake up expecting her to be next to me.

  But my memories don’t do her justice.

  I only remember the girl.

  Before me now stands a woman. The woman she’s become without me. Her brown hair is pulled up, but some strands have escaped, the misty air making them stick to her skin. I can’t stop from smiling.

  She’s better than any dream could ever be.

  The white shirt she’s wearing reveals lace under the wet fabric. Too much of her legs are covered by a skirt, but I still remember the great shape of her calves. Her glasses slip down, but she pushes the middle back up the bridge of her nose. She never wore glasses when we were together, so it serves as another reminder of what I’ve missed.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” I don’t mean to say it, but I don’t regret it either.

  She gifts me with the smile I’ve missed every minute of every year we were apart, but it fades away too fast. “What are you doing here?”

  What am I doing here?

  There are so many possible answers, and while all of them are true, none of them are right.

  I miss her. I love her. I’m so fucking sorry for ruining everything.

  My first album set the charts on fire, and all I wanted to do was come home and find her because celebrating this achievement or any without her was never in the plans. Shutting the door, I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and shift. “I needed to see you.”

  She moves her bag to her chest and wraps her arms around it. “Needed?”

  “Wanted?”

  The rain still touches her, but she makes no move to leave, willing to brave the elements just like me. “Are you asking me, Rivers?”

  “I wanted to see you.” Shaking my head, I know I’m fucking this up. “I wanted to come beca
use I needed to see you.”

  “Why?” She looks around as if to make sure there are no witnesses before she comes closer, keeping some distance between us.

  I take a few steps but don’t invade her space like I want to. “When did you start wearing glasses?”

  “Did you come here to ask about my glasses?”

  The answer to that question isn’t what she really wants to know, but maybe she’s stalling like I am. It feels good to be this close to her, to be talking to her again. I smile, and this time, it tempts one from her. But she’s stronger than I am. She held out longer, didn’t take my calls, didn’t return my texts, never contacted me.

  We stand face-to-face with a thousand unspoken questions jostling between us. I could take another step, two maybe, and breathe in the faint smell of oranges. I could extend an arm and touch her. But I don’t. She’s not mine anymore, and as natural as it would feel to do either of those things, I know there’s an ocean between who we are and who we used to be.

  Glancing at one of the few cars that remain in the parking lot, she says, “I should go.”

  As I try to come up with something to say, I start memorizing everything about her in case I’m not given another opportunity.

  She doesn’t wear a ring on her left hand.

  I used to kiss the soft skin behind the earrings that dot her earlobes.

  A simple thin gold necklace highlights the delicate curve of her neck.

  Even though raindrops coat her lenses, her green eyes still shine behind them.

  When my gaze dips to the lace that clings to the skin I used to kiss, I search for the one thing that will always bind us together. She turns to leave, so I say the first thing I can think of to keep her here. “Your earrings. I remember buying them at a stand in South Padre during spring break.”

  Two fingers touch her right earring and spin the little turquoise teardrops. When she looks back at me, she replies, “You did. I remember.”

  Relief washes across her face, and she finally smiles as if we’ve come to an understanding. The smile is smaller than I want, but more than I deserve. “It was good seeing you again.”

  My heart lurches in my throat, desperate to keep talking to her, even if only for a minute. But I can’t find the words when I need them most. “Stella—”

  “Goodbye.” She turns on her heel and heads across the parking lot. Water splashes under her feet as she moves quicker than necessary.

  With each step she takes farther from me, my mind races faster. And by the time she’s backing her beige sedan from the parking spot, I’m next to her window. She takes a deep breath and exhales before rolling it down. “It’s good to see you,” I choke out.

  Her glasses are on the seat next to her, and she tugs at the seat belt across her body. Although she peeks up at me, she’s quick to look away again. With her head down, she says, “It’s hard seeing you on TV and hearing your songs on the radio . . .” When her eyes find mine again, her shoulders drop as if she’s given up. “But hearing your voice, and you standing so close that I can touch you but . . . but can’t. It . . . Why are you here? Tell me, because I was doing just fine, and now . . .”

  The rain isn’t to blame for the water in her eyes.

  I am.

  Pressing my hands against the car, I lean over, looking into her eyes while ignoring the lump burning in my throat. “Because I’ve spent five years regretting every day that didn’t have you in it. Can I see you again? Can I come over and talk—”

  She shakes her head, and then says, “It’s too late for us.”

  “But I just want to—”

  “I’m taken.”

  Of all the things I expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. My hands fall off the car as I take a step back. “Stella?”

  “No, Rivers. Just . . . no.”

  She pulls away, and I realize I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for goodbye. I look at the sky, broken open and raining, and that familiar feeling returns. What I’ve felt for so long.

  Empty.

  1

  Rivers

  I was a disaster years in the making.

  Haunted by my mother’s death, I tried to drown myself in booze and drugs to cover the pain. But when I eventually lost Stella, I lost myself for good. Traveling through the past five years like a ghost, I don’t even recognize this life as my own.

  As soon as the cab dropped me off from the airport, I threw my stuff in the back seat and took off to see her before I changed my mind. Two hours later, I shift my SUV into park, sitting in the driveway of my brother’s house knowing I’m going in there alone. I didn’t think showing up at her work unannounced would have her dropping her life to breathe life back into mine, but it didn’t exactly go as planned either.

  Sometimes, I get caught up in the image I portray in my day to day. To the outside world, I’m the bass guitarist for a world-famous band. My face is on the cover of magazines, and I have the world at my fingertips. But they don’t see the dark I carry inside, the grieving I never do because the devastation overwhelms me. I’ve become a master of disguise, hiding who I am on the inside.

  Smile for the camera.

  Play for the fans.

  Do the paparazzi dance, pretending nothing’s fucking wrong.

  A week ago, I was at a party in New York City celebrating my band’s success. Surrounded by my brothers and bandmates, our producer, mentor, and idol—Johnny Outlaw—his wife who helped us launch a line of apparel, Holli Hughes, and our manager, Tommy. I dragged my hand along the glass edge that separated me from the street fifty-five stories below. The world at my fingertips. The toast of the town. All the money in the world.

  Something inside me is unsettled. We’re unsettled because we never closed that chapter of our lives. We ended too fast, drastically, and without parting words to satisfy a broken heart to carry on and find someone new to love, but my heart is incapable of loving anyone but her.

  Fame can’t heal a broken heart.

  Money won’t fill a body missing its soul.

  Only a soul mate can reconcile the two. And Stella is mine.

  Six days, five interviews, four performances, and three cities later, I set my suitcase down in the living room and toss my backpack on a chair. Letting my jacket slide down my arms, I throw that and my hat on the chair. I look around the old house, not knowing what to do with myself.

  I had gotten a text before leaving Vancouver this morning that my sister-in-law, Hannah, had the fridge stocked for me. Jet, my oldest brother, Hannah, and my nephew Alfie moved out of this house a few months ago when they made Los Angeles their new home. Since they had my niece a few months ago, the house here in Austin hasn’t been a priority. I’m taking advantage of the vacancy before it goes on the market. It will be a nice crash pad for the next ten days.

  Dead tired, I drag my ass to the fridge and pull out a beer while taking a quick tally of the food inside. I’m pretty set while I’m here. I hold my beer up in silent praise for Hannah.

  My stomach growls, so I take a pizza from the freezer and heat the oven.

  It’s weird to be back in Austin, a place where Stella exists not but a few miles away. I was drawn to her the moment I heard her say my name again. That connection we had before was still there. I wanted to touch her, kiss her, and hold her again. It was painful to keep that distance between us, going against every fiber of my being.

  She looked so beautiful, my pretty little mess, except she’s not mine. Her words come back like a vengeance and gut me once again. “I’m taken.”

  Taken. Such a strange way to say she’s dating someone. Taken? Not I’m in a committed relationship. Not I’m seeing someone. Not I’m in love with someone else. But taken. Taken? She’s taken with some guy? She’s not available?

  I shove the pizza pan in the oven and lean against the counter. Drinking my beer, I stare at the oven between gulps. I finish a can before the oven timer goes off and grab another. After seeing her, drunk is not a bad sta
te for me to be in.

  Eating.

  Drinking.

  Passing out.

  I pound down the Totino’s pizza and five beers before I’m lying on the couch staring at a TV I’ve not turned on. The blank screen allows my thoughts to flow back to Stella five years ago.

  My clothes are on the lawn, my textbooks flying through the air and landing at my feet when I show up outside our apartment. Stella’s yelling so loud that I make the mistake to try to quiet her before the cops are called. “Shhhh. Calm down, Stella.”

  “How dare you tell me what to do! Screw you!” She flings a book in my direction, but it falls short from hitting me. “Where’s your new girlfriend, Rivers?” She disappears inside again, but I can hear her loud and clear, along with the whole apartment complex. “Or did you have sex with Naomi and actually think you could come back to me?”

  When she steps out on the balcony, yelling for me to confess, I can only repeat the truth, “I didn’t cheat on you, Stella.”

  “Really? What happened then?”

  Her eyes are crazed, her mouth pressed so tight her lips pale. Her hands are bound in fists from her fury as she stares down from the second floor. My mind spins as I stumble between what I can tell her and what I can’t. I stupidly gave my word to Naomi to keep her secret until she’s settled. “Stella, I can’t tell you.”