“Never seen anything like it.” Simone shook her head and took her seat beside the Dirt Dogs’ handsome front man. “They’re like sharks in chummed water.”
“It’s pretty awful.” I swiped the back of my hand through the wetness on my cheeks. “I really appreciate you guys being here and putting up with all of this for me.”
“Anything for you.” Fanny tucked a piece of hair that had escaped my chignon behind my ear.
Ash gave me a firm look. “You’re family. Family takes care of their own.”
I nodded to acknowledge him, then turned my head away as everyone began to chime in, echoing his sentiment.
I appreciated them, loved the way they had dropped everything in their lives to show their support for me, but right now my heart was broken. It was too difficult to breathe, let alone process anything good. I just kept telling myself to take one step. Then when I’d done that, I talked myself into another one.
“I’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute,” I told Fanny, resting my head on her shoulder.
“You go right ahead, honey,” she said, and began stroking my arm.
I leaned more fully into her as the limo pulled away from the curb. As the others talked softly, I let the darkness behind my eyelids consume me.
• • •
“Wake up, Hols.”
Jerking awaking, I blinked up at her. “What? Where am I?”
“You fell asleep. You needed your rest.” Looking down at me, Fanny frowned. “The last week has been hard on you. I sent the others upstairs.”
“I haven’t been sleeping well for a while. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“They know that. They’re acquainted with loss, and the toll it takes on you.”
She meant the band losing Dominic, the original bassist Diesel had replaced. Dominic’s unexpected death had affected the entire band. I felt selfish for being so wrapped up in my own grief. I should have been more sensitive to their pain.
“I forgot. I’m sorry. I’ll go apologize.” I reached for the handle to get out of the limo, but she stopped me.
“You don’t need to apologize. But don’t go just yet. I want to talk to you alone.”
“What about?”
“The Santa Monica police called.”
“Why?” Puzzlement pulled my brows together.
“They want to talk to you about Maximillian. About whether he was upset or stressed before he died. There seems to be some question in their minds about whether his death was accidental.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Not really. He was a strong swimmer and familiar with the currents in the area. They want to try to figure out what happened.”
“I don’t believe Max took his own life.”
“But the note he wrote you seems to be a permanent good-bye. Don’t you think they should see it?”
“He wrote it to me. It’s all I have left. I don’t want a bunch of strangers poring over it and speculating.” Tears sprang to my eyes.
“I understand.” Fanny grasped my hand. “But if you think there’s even a chance his death wasn’t accidental—”
“They performed an autopsy.” My stomach churned. “There were no signs of foul play. I don’t know why it matters anyway. He’s gone. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“But the coincidence—”
“I’m not following.”
“Samuel was threatening him. Driving him to the brink. Maximillian sounds desperate in that letter, Hols. Mom was desperate too. She had a bag packed and was going to leave him. Only she drowned before she got the chance.”
My blood chilled. “Max promised he would never leave me,” I whispered.
“Maybe he didn’t see death as abandonment.”
“It was an accident. I can’t believe you’d suggest otherwise.” I huffed out a breath. “Yes, Samuel was pressuring him. Yes, Max did things he shouldn’t have and kept things from me, but he loved me. Don’t make me doubt that. Please.”
“Okay, Hollie. It’s okay.” Fanny folded me into her arms, stroking my back soothingly like she had on the drive. “It was just a thought. You’ll have to talk to the authorities eventually. I want you to be prepared for the questions they might ask. If you want to keep the letter to yourself, that’s your choice, and I support you. But you should know that having my support doesn’t mean I’m always going to agree with you.”
Diesel
“What’s up with you today?” my dad asked.
I shrugged, turning away from the window in his tiny apartment and the boring-as-fuck view of the courtyard and fountain. “How do you mean?”
“You seem more . . .” He tapped the salt-and-pepper whiskers on his chin. “More distracted than usual, I guess.”
“You mean I’m being more of an asshole than usual.”
Dad shrugged. “You said it. I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“Say whatever the fuck’s on your mind. Why start sugarcoating shit now?”
“That’s what I tell them in here when they say I’m being difficult.” Dad grinned, his dark brown eyes sparkling in a way they hadn’t since I moved him into his apartment in the assisted-living facility.
“Some people just don’t wanna keep it real,” I said, egging him on, wanting his smile to last. “They like the bullshit view through their rose-tinted glasses.”
“They waste too much time avoiding the things they don’t like in their lives instead of figuring out a way to truly live them.” He gave me a firm look.
“Yeah, Dad. I hear you.”
I moved closer and patted him on the shoulder, worried that he hadn’t gotten out of his seat today. The cane lay beside his chair in the same position it had been the last time I visited. The grooves around his eyes were more pronounced too. His arthritis was bothering him, but he’d never let on, and I didn’t let on that I noticed.
We’d done this dance of denial for a while. He took the lead in not letting anyone know he was hurting. I followed in his footsteps. I rarely let anyone besides him know my thoughts. Except when he hadn’t been an option to confide in, and I’d been forced to put him in this place.
“You surf today?” he asked.
“You know I did.”
“Saw the forecast on the news. Knew it had to be a good one out there.”
It had been as good as it could be without him with me.
“So, that being the case, what’s got you so on edge, son?”
“There’s a girl.”
My dad’s gaze took on a hyperalert sheen. “Don’t recall there being one to hold your attention, not since Lalana.”
I bristled. “I was a kid when I met her.”
“Not so little.”
“High school.”
“Seems like yesterday.”
“She still acts like a kid.”
“She wants you back.”
Scowling, I said, “Never going back to that ball-and-chain bullshit with her.”
“Not all women are like her.”
“Not met one I thought was different.”
“What about the one that’s got you so keyed up right now that the surf can’t soothe you?”
“It’s not that I’m keyed up. I’m just concerned. She’s the sister of Ash’s girl.”
Dad’s brows rose. “It keeps coming back to that one.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You took off outta here like a wind kite tripping on a gale to go to her birthday party. On island and then off again, just like that.”
“She’s young. Nearly half my age.”
“Why’s that a factor, if all you care about is bedding her?”
“Not interested in anything with her right now. The dude she was with just died.”
“The bodyguard.” Dad nodded somberly. “I saw it on the television.”
“Scary the way you pay attention to details.”
“I always pay attention when it comes to things that affect you. And anyway,” he cleared h
is throat, “I’ve got nothing better to do in here.”
“They’ve got lots of activities.”
“Bingo. Ballroom dancing. Karaoke. Old folks’ shit.”
“You’re sixty-three, Dad.”
“That’s not old.”
“It’s older than me. Old enough that no one’s gonna think twice if you ask for a hand when you need it.”
“So, what are you gonna do about this girl?”
“Kinda fixated on her, aren’t you?” I said with a huff. The truth was, I was fixated on her too. But he had his method of avoiding things, and I had mine. “I dunno exactly what I’m going to do yet.”
Dad gave me a knowing look. “I think maybe you do know, and that’s why you’re so antsy.”
He was right. I was going to invite Hollie out here. Hawaii was the best place in the world to get your head together.
“Sounds like she’s in a bad situation. Grief’s an unfortunate experience you share. Maybe you can help her.”
“I can’t help anyone for shit.”
“Don’t downplay your good qualities, son.” He waved off my denial. “Offer her a hand in kindness. Coax her to come to you. Don’t tell her how it’s going to be, the way you usually do with those short-term women of yours. She’s more apt to accept help from you if you present it to her in a manner that makes her believe the choice is hers.”
Hollie
Long after Fanny and Ash had said good night and gone down the hall to the guest bedroom to sleep, I remained awake. It was nearly impossible to rest anymore. Samuel seemed to stalk me when I closed my eyes, and Max haunted my every waking hour.
The scent of him lingered on his pillow. I crushed it into my face, inhaling deeply. My sobs muffled, I silently cried for all that had been lost, replaying every moment we’d shared. In my memory, his love was unaffected by reality or my shortcomings.
I would never forget when I first saw Max. How I hadn’t been able to look away, and neither had he. He’d protected me valiantly while struggling to maintain a professional distance between us.
How inevitable our being a couple had been. How blissful it had been . . . until one day it wasn’t. Because of Samuel.
But I was afraid more because of me.
Nausea lurched to the back of my throat. I tossed the pillow aside, leaped from the bed, and rushed to the bathroom. Behind the closed door, I dropped to my knees and heaved stomach bile as quietly as I could. Afterward, I flushed and stood up, though my legs shook. I washed my hands and face, then brushed my teeth carefully, because nowadays toothpaste often made me hurl.
Thankfully, it didn’t this time.
Padding back to bed, I strained my ears for sounds within the condo, and breathed easier when I heard nothing but the thumps of my own heartbeat.
The first couple of nights after Fanny arrived, my nightmares and sickness had woken her. She’d fussed. She’d hovered. Fretting about me, when she needed her rest. I’d been leaning heavily on her, so easily sliding back into the old pattern where she was the strong one who looked out for me.
My stomach still upset, I climbed into bed gingerly. Pulling the covers over my head, I shut out the world. Yet inside my tent, sleep eluded me. Round and round, I circled inside my head, always returning to the same starting point.
Failing myself. Failing him. If I hadn’t been messed up to start with. If I hadn’t withheld my deepest affection. If only I’d told Max I loved him, wouldn’t he have shared his secrets with me?
There was never any answer to my questions. But eventually, I succumbed to exhaustion.
• • •
I woke to the sound of soft voices I recognized. Ash and Fanny had remained since that horrible day. Olivia visited each morning. But even Ernie was here today.
It was time for me to get up. Time for me to get on with my life, so they could go on with theirs. But it took all the energy I had just to summon the will to crawl out of my cocoon.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Fanny stood from the sectional as I shuffled out of my bedroom. She’d been waiting for me to emerge. The routine had rarely varied since she and Ash had come to stay with me.
I didn’t need to see her reaction today to know I looked terrible. My hair was tangled, my pajamas rumpled, and my skin was pale. Weariness had left bruises under my eyes. My shoulders were stooped from the ugly truths I couldn’t escape, even in sleep.
“Oh, darling, you look terrible,” Ernie said, shaking his head.
“You didn’t sleep much at all, did you?” Fanny crossed to me and reeled me into her comforting embrace. After kissing the top of my head, she released me. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Toast?” she asked, already on her way to the kitchen.
“Maybe later.” I continued toward the living area where everyone else was seated.
“You should try to eat something.” Ash patted the spot beside him on the sectional.
“I can’t.” I moved gingerly like I had during the night to keep my upset stomach calm.
“You look like you still feel bad.” My bestie’s expression soft, he scooted close as I took a seat on the couch between him and Ash.
Ernie tucked the throw I’d left behind the day before over my legs, and I offered him a small grateful smile. He gifted me a gorgeous one that sparked all the way into his gorgeous brown eyes.
“Still nauseated this morning?” Ash’s blond brows dipped in concern.
I nodded.
“Did you throw up again last night?” Fanny asked, the glass coffee carafe clattering as she returned it to the warmer.
“A little.”
“There’s no little about throwing up, especially the way you’ve been heaving. You should’ve called me.” Frowning, she stopped in front of me and placed the mug she’d filled into my hands.
“Thank you.”
Fanny took a seat on the other side of Ash.
Curling my fingers around the warmed porcelain, I brought the much-needed elixir to my lips while Ash casually threw his arm around my sister, drawing her close. Watching them and their obvious affection, I rocked beneath the gale-force wind of regret. I would never have love like that again.
“How’s the coffee?” Fanny asked.
“Haven’t tried it yet.” I took a cautious sip and waited to make sure it would stay down before I nodded to her. “It’s good.”
“You ready to get started?” Olivia asked, and I shifted to face her and her list of unavoidable tasks.
“I’m ready,” I mumbled without enthusiasm.
“You look bad.” She lowered her readers to peer over them at me. “Worse than yesterday.”
“Thanks for noticing.” I made a face.
“You don’t pay me the big bucks to coddle you.”
Fanny leaned forward. “Now, wait a minute—”
“No more waiting.” Olivia gave my sister an imperious look. “We agreed to talk to her today.”
“Agreed about what?” My stomach churned anew as I glanced around, noting the tension in each of them.
“Agreed about you,” Ash said, appearing resolved.
“We’re worried about you, dear heart.” Ernie took my free hand and squeezed it.
“Interviews. Appearances. You can’t keep going on like this without a break.” Fanny’s brows drew together over her worried eyes. “Not without proper sleep and nutrition.”
“I can’t help the nausea,” I said, but didn’t try to defend the lack of sleep.
“It’s not just the nausea. You’re not giving yourself any time to grieve.”
“Grieving won’t bring him back.”
“I know that, but—”
“I need to keep busy,” I said firmly, curling my fingers tighter around the mug.
Maybe throwing myself right back into work was a coping mechanism. But it was familiar, and all I knew to do. My world had done worse than crumble without Max . . . it had turned into quicksand. Deeper and deeper, I sank into it ea
ch day.
“What’s on the agenda?” I tried to inject enthusiasm into my tone as I focused on my agent.
“I cleared your schedule.” She set her iPad on the coffee table.
“But I thought you were working on getting me an appearance on Carter Besille’s show.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“He has the biggest audience. I can’t stay silent while the media continually tear down Max and me, and what we shared.” I paused to try to swallow the lump that strained my throat.
“There’s not much you can say without sharing the letter, which you don’t want to do.”
“They’re making our relationship seem so sordid with their speculations.” My nails bit into my palms. “Cedric and me. Max and Lori. I don’t want them to think I was unfaithful to him or that he was to me.” I had to do all I could to preserve Max’s reputation. It was the only thing left I could do for him.
“They’ll drop it eventually.” Olivia raised a brow. “Cedric’s staying out of it. Lori hasn’t made any additional public comments since the one statement denying any romantic involvement.” My agent took off her glasses and folded the earpieces, then lifted her gaze. Her expression was censuring. “That’s what I’ve been advising you to do.”
“A single statement doesn’t seem right. They’re going to think he didn’t mean anything to me. They’re going to believe that I cast him aside because he didn’t benefit my career.”
“People who believe nonsense like that won’t be swayed by the truth. Let them believe what they want to believe. It’s better than the alternative.” Olivia punctuated her statement with her glasses.
“What alternative?” I asked.
“Knowing that he was spying on you for your stepfather.” She shook her head sadly. “Most wouldn’t be as forgiving of him as you’ve been.”
“Samuel was blackmailing him. Max didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to lose me.” My denial lacked conviction.
“Maximillian lied to you, Hols.” Fanny’s words were hard to hear, but her expression was kind as she leaned forward to regard me.
“He lied to protect me,” I whispered. I was alone without him, as alone as I was in my defense of him, even among family and friends.
Island Side Page 2
