by Susan Ward
“Is it live yet?”
She shakes her head, annoyed. “No. Don’t know why it’s taking so long. It said it would take twelve hours. It’s been nearly twenty. Maybe I made an error or something.”
I move the contents of the skillet with a fork. “Probably karma. You know that part about not telling me you were writing a book. Now it’s not releasing because you withheld vital intel from your guy.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone I was writing a book.”
I give her a heavy stare. “I’m not just anyone. And you must have. How’d my folks know?”
She sets down her laptop and comes up behind me, slipping her arms around me as she presses her cheek into my back. “Don’t know. But if I were to guess: just a logical assumption by your dad. He’s very observant. Seems to know everything about everything. Every blogger I know is writing a book or has released one. An assumption, I guess.”
“You should have let me read it before you uploaded it.”
“Nope, that’s my marketing strategy. I figure if I don’t cave to the pressure of you asking me to see it I’ll sell at least one copy after it releases.”
I laugh. “Oh, you can count on it. Nothing betrays the thoughts in a girl’s mind better than writing a book. I’m going to have you all figured out after I read it.”
She makes a face at me. “No, I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Well, if there are parts about me, they should be useful to unraveling the secret inner Avery. Lots of scenes about how you lusted after me from stage left? Maybe a fantasy or two of your own?”
“It’s not that kind of book.”
My brows hitch. “No? It sounds like it is given the title. Meet Me in the Ladies’ Room. Like it’s going to be packed with racy tidbits of backstage life”—I frown—“and other things you’ve been doing that I don’t know about.”
“Yep, you’ve found me out.” She pushes Ginger up against my ass, using her to rub me there. “Every page is about me worshipping you from afar. It’s a sex fantasy book.”
“Oh, can’t wait to read it now.” I laugh, scooping grilled chicken onto our plates. “Close that laptop. No refreshing the screen while you eat. No work. Nothing blocking you from view for me. That’s my fantasy today.”
Four hours later, I’m lying on a chair on my deck, enjoying a beer and the sunny day, and Avery charges through the open doors, laptop glued to her fingers again.
She sets it on the table beside me. “Look at that. I’m live and I’m selling.”
I lean over and my eyes widen. Jesus Christ, she is selling. I don’t know how much that is, but I didn’t expect her to sell on release day. “Wow. I’m impressed. How’d you do that? We’ve spent most of the day being nasty together. How are you making love to me and promoting simultaneously?”
She shrugs, but I can tell by her glow she’s proud of herself. “Well, this is what I figured. I’m a blogger. I create miraculous buzz for bands. I should be able to do it for me, right? Same game plan, just the product’s different. So I’ve been posting some spicy tidbits, quotes here and there, an excerpt, creating interest for the last two weeks, and once the book went live I loaded my auto-poster to blast my release across social media, and I sent out a mailer to my fans list, and voila. There. I’ve sold and have a rank.”
I pull her up on my lap. “You’re amazing. You don’t fail at anything. I’m proud of you, babe. Makes me less worried if I decide not to sign with the label and cut ties with the band and do an indie thing of my own. You’re amazing at promotion and buzz.”
She turns until she’s lying back against my chest, staring at the city, too. “I’d do that for you if you wanted me to. You’ve got everything you need to record, release, and get your music out there on your own. I’m your biggest fan, remember? And now I’m your partner. We could both be off the road. Live in our own space, create our art however we want to. Promote and support each other. I’m up for that if you are.”
I set my chin on her shoulder. “Sounds like heaven to me. You and me, Avery. Doing everything together. Living our life, you and me, babe. Always.”
She leans to hit update on her computer again, and the orange bar on her sales screen grows.
“How much is that?”
She peeks at me, crinkling her nose. “Not a lot. The orange makes it look more impressive than it is. That’s just under four hundred sales, which isn’t that much money considering how much time went into the work, but I couldn’t be more thrilled. We’re doing our own thing together, and that’s kinda cool, isn’t it? You and me, E. An unstoppable team.”
Together—that I absolutely love. “Very cool.”
My door chimes sound and we stare at each other, twin looks of dread.
“Do you think it’s your family?” she asks apprehensively.
“No. Probably Dillon. Us being alone I knew was too good to be true to last forever. Fuck, they’ve tracked us down.”
Her head tilts as she makes a face. “Well, it wasn’t like we had a good plan. Your place, E. Kind of obvious, don’t you think?”
I set her on her feet. “Yeah, but fuck, I thought since it’s been three weeks, my folks’ paranoia over Eric’s predicament must’ve died down, that Carson had given them the A-OK sign, crisis over, and maybe they’d cut me a break.”
She pouts and kisses my chin. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got things figured out. We know what we’re doing. We’re happy. Now go get rid of whichever member of your family is out there.”
I toss her an annoyed glance. “Bossy now that you’re the woman of the house, aren’t you? You go get rid of them.”
“Your family, your problem. My family, my problem. That’s how this works.”
“Yeah, but my family likes you better than they like me,” I grumble, really not in the mood for whoever’s on my stoop about to ruin my bliss here.
When I open the door, my muscles tense and my eyes flare wide. “Mr. Hart. What are you doing here?”
Sean Hart smiles affably, but his gaze does a fast once-over of my shirtless chest and pajama bottoms. “Something tells me you weren’t expecting us. I take it Emmy forgot to text ahead. Avery asked her to drop off some of her things here, and, since most of her things are at our place as she uses us as a closet and we have the van, I figured we’d bring it all here in one trip.”
Van? Stuff? “That’s very considerate of you, sir.” I look past him to see Skyler pulling a box from the cargo bay.
“Can’t blame a father for wanting to see where his free-spirit daughter has landed,” Skyler says. “Though you might have wanted to have discussed this with us before you two kids did anything.”
Heat rolls my flesh. “Yes, sir. We probably should have. Would you like to come in?”
Skyler brushes past me with a load in his arms, and Sean’s gaze locks on me. “This living together thing. What’s up with that? Avery’s the kind of girl a guy marries. It took years for gays to get the right to marry, and all young people want to do is shack up together. I’m a marriage kind of man. You should think about it, Ethan.”
“Yes, sir.” I’m a marriage kind of man, too. It’s Avery who’s not into traditional anything, but I don’t bother saying that. “I’ll work on it, sir.”
“Good,” Sean says. “That’s all we can ask of you two. Keep an open mind for the future. And never forget, she’s got two dads watching out for her. Step out of line with our girl and you’ll hear from us.”
“I’d never step out of line with Avery. I love your daughter.”
“Then next time, maybe include us in what you’re doing so we feel you respect us,” Sean says, holding his arms wide. “I’m sure you told your family. We deserve the same courtesy.”
“It’s your fault, babe, that Avery didn’t discuss it with us first,” Skyler says from the living room, then I hear a thump like he’s dropped the box he was carrying. “You’re the one who taught our kids to chart their own paths and be independent.”
Sean rolls his eyes. “Everything’s always my fault. Now, where’s Avery?”
“Inside, sir. I’ll get her.”
I gesture him into the house, show him to the living room, and hurry out onto the deck for Avery. “Your dads are here.”
She looks up from the laptop and shrugs. “Oh. Wasn’t expecting them so soon. They should have texted before they swooped in. Definitely need to get that clear with them or they’ll be dropping in unannounced all the time. But I’m glad they’re here. I need my junk, my clothes, my things. Can’t wear your boxers and shirts forever. Go get my dads something to drink. I’ll be right there.”
She stands up and, oh Christ, yep, she’s wearing my boxers.
“Can you get dressed before you join us in the living room? They’ve already given me a rash of shit.”
Giggling, she rises on tiptoes to kiss my nose. “My dads just like to mess with people. They don’t mean anything. They’re not judgmental. Not in any way. Let it roll off your back.”
“Well, why don’t we do this? Your family, your problem. That’s your rule. You go deal with them.”
She shakes her head at me and hurries into the house. “Dad and Daddy,” Avery exclaims ecstatically in a way that brings a smile to my face.
God, I love that woman.
Yep, stole your line, Pop.
After I help her dads move in Avery’s things, we have drinks on the patio and discuss with them what we’re doing with our lives. Avery’s sparkly from head to toe, and it’s enough for the Harts to see that she’s happy.
Her dads leave on a better note than they arrived. Later in bed, Avery curls into me and kisses my chest. “It’s hard to believe three weeks ago everything seemed so hopeless and now we’re so happy. Ethan, we’re so lucky. We know what we want. We know who we want. We love each other and we don’t need anything else. We have everything.”
My arms tighten around her.
My thoughts exactly.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Ethan”
I’m working in my studio, since Avery kicked me out of the bedroom so she could write, and struggling to get in the zone to make some music again.
So much for being in our own space, doing everything together, and creating our art the way we want to. The best inspiration for me is lying on the bed, staring at Avery until words and music fill my head. But she banished me two hours ago, something about not being able to focus on her thoughts with me touching her every two minutes. I wouldn’t touch her if she wasn’t so damn enticing, and touching her has a way of making the juices—creative and otherwise—flow in me.
Frustrated, my hands still on the strings. It’s not as easy, the creative process, without Eric. We worked together on every song Black Dawn ever released. Right up until that last album, when he cut everyone, including me, out of the process.
Maybe that’s why those last tracks we recorded were shit. Hugh’s right about that. Maybe my music without my brother will only be shit, too. I hadn’t considered that before. That separately we might not be able to be who we are together.
I try not to think about it, but I can’t help but wonder where Eric is and how he’s doing. I’m confident he’s all right. If something was wrong with my brother I would feel it. That inescapable twin thing and all. But I haven’t felt the twist in my gut since he skipped the country. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s doing well.
I nod—my life is going well.
Found me a woman to love.
An amazing woman who loves me.
I’m clear in my head about what I want and where I’m going for the first time since I dropped out of MIT. And if something was wrong with Eric, my life would be fucked up, too. It’s that weird yin and yang I have with my brother.
Not feeling particularly brilliant, I set down my guitar and call it a day. Better use of time: vegging on the patio, having a beer, and waiting for my woman to finish her work and want me.
I’m halfway to sleep on a lounger when I feel weight across my thighs, softness pushing up against my cock, and get a nice whiff of Avery with my inhale of air.
I open my drowsy eyes to find her curled on my lap, and my arms close around her. “You done writing?”
“No. Got interrupted and I was on a roll. The doorbell rang. Didn’t you hear it?”
My lids droop closed again and I’m feel groggy still. “No. Too busy thinking up new fantasies of you. Another ten minutes of sleep and I’ll have it perfected in my mind.”
“Is that why you sent me these? Thinking nasty thoughts, and you thought it’d get me to quit writing early. That’s devious of you, E. But adorably romantic.”
She snuggles her back into me, and I hear a rustling sound. That’s when I notice the long florist box she’s holding.
“Wow. They’re beautiful.” She scoops up the pile of flowers and takes a deep smell. “These are the most gorgeous color of orange rose I’ve ever seen. They must have set you back some bank. I’ve never had flowers from a florist sent to me before. We have a little, itty-bitty quarrel so I can work, and you do this to make up. Yep, I’m liking you again, Ethan. Consider getting your fantasy a sure thing.”
She turns into me, claiming my mouth in a hard, happy kiss, and I’m wide awake now. “Good to know, but I didn’t send those. Who the hell sent you flowers, Avery?”
Her brows shoot up as mine shoot downward into a frown. Her impish chocolate eyes turn into a bright light show as she rudely laughs in my face. “Oh, I have many admirers. I’m not telling you about all of them.”
Capricious Avery I adore, but I’m not loving it right now.
“Seriously, why would some guy send you flowers to my place?”
Her laughter grows louder. “God, look at you. Going from zero to wrong conclusion this quickly. Just like you did when I asked you to leave the bedroom so I could work. Sometimes you’re like a little boy afraid someone’s going to snatch your toy from you. But it’s kinda cute to see you jealous.”
Not loving that one either. “Not jealous—and trust me, no one is stealing you from me. I just want to know who sent you flowers.”
She rummages around the box and says aha when she finds a card. She opens it, keeping the paper away so I can’t read it, before she lifts a brow at me. “I have an admirer who thinks I’m remarkable.”
“Does this admirer have a name?”
“Yep.” Then she leaves me hanging as she waves the damn note in my face, before springing from my lap and the lounger.
I stare up at her. “You going to tell me who sent them so I know who I need to have a talk with?”
She rolls her eyes, then laughs. “He only gave one name. Alan. But I think we can safely assume it was your dad. He sent me flowers, congratulating me on releasing the book. Your father is so thoughtful and sweet.”
Thoughtful and sweet—not how I’d describe Pop—and what’s up with sending Avery flowers when he hasn’t sent me so much as a text since our prison break? Not even my sisters have gotten up in my shit. That I didn’t expect, and it’s like no one’s even thinking of me, not even my mother.
Avery releases a book and they send a present.
I’m happy for the first time in a long time and there’s nothing from them. I shake my head, running my fingers through missing hair again. “Fuck, I don’t understand my family.”
Her eyes widen, puzzled, then she pouts. “What’s to understand? They’re nice people. Why are you a grim cloud and unhappy over this? I would have thought you’d be happy your family likes me. I’m happy my dads like you.”
That makes me feel like an overreacting idiot, and I shrug. “Not one of them has called me in three weeks. Shouldn’t someone have reached out by now? Tried to figure out what’s up with me? We just left the ’Sades without a word to any of them and no one is even calling, wondering what I’m doing. It bugs me, OK?”
She settles back on my lap. “They’re just giving us space, Ethan. That’s all. You don’t need to make more of this t
han it is. Your family loves you. Just because they’re not calling doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.”
She’s right, and in the normal course of things I wouldn’t, but I’m having that what the fuck is happening in my life feeling again, like there are things I don’t know that everyone else is clued in on. Even Avery. And I hate it. Feeling shut out of something, not even knowing what. But there’s no denying I’ve felt this way since Eric left California. It’s like I’m no longer plugged in with what goes on with my family.
“Well, sometimes it feels that way,” I confess, knowing this is going to make me sound pathetic. “Like I’m the second thought to them. Eric is first concern. Turn everyone’s life upside down without notice for him. But me, I’m the afterthought.”
Her mouth curls downward at the corners. “You’re not an afterthought. Not to me. And not to them either.”
From her pocket, she pulls out her phone and hits the screen. She’s got the phone to her ear.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling your dad to thank him for the flowers. Did it ever occur to you he might have sent them as a nonintrusive way to reach out to us? That sounds like Alan to me. Respectful of our privacy and independence, but ready for us to come back on the grid. Making a gesture so we’d make contact. That’s why I think he sent me those flowers today. It’s about reaching out to you, not me. I’d bet on it.”
“My dad isn’t that subtle. Unlike my mom, you always know where Alan stands and what he’s thinking.”
She sticks her tongue out at me before she smiles and gushes into the phone, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”
I can hear my dad’s voice float from the receiver, but damn it, I can’t make out what he’s saying. My annoyance is further fueled when Avery stands and steps away as she listens.
“No. We’ve been busy. It’s a lot of work releasing a book as an indie. So much to learn. So much to do. You never know what you don’t know until you try to do it. We’ve both been working a lot. Ethan’s been writing some amazing music. And we’re still in that trying to figure out how to live together and work together phase. Maybe you and Chrissie can give us some pointers on that one.” She laughs and I tense. “Oh, I forgot you didn’t know. But then, how could you? Moved my things into the house last week. Thank you. I’m happy for us, too.”
