“I’m sorry, Jamie.” For so many things.
He opened his eyes then, and when he looked at her she could see the pain roiling just beneath the surface. “I was here when it all got ripped away the first time. Me being home didn’t save them.”
Zee stared at him. “So you thought…if you stayed away…”
“I know, it’s insane, but somewhere in my head I guess I thought fate wouldn’t hit again if the circumstances were different.”
She swallowed. Felt slammed with another sudden understanding. Struggled for the breath to speak something she’d never admitted, even to herself. “And I stayed home because I thought I could somehow guard against it. That if we were together, nothing would happen to True.”
He stared at her. She could see in his eyes that he’d never realized that was part of her refusal to go with him. How could he, when she hadn’t even realized it herself until he’d said what he’d said?
Then he let out a pained laugh, again closed his eyes, and slowly shook his head. “Like we have any control at all.”
“But we keep trying,” she said. “And as long as we’re mired in this, I have something for you.” She held out the letter she’d retrieved from the box in the back. “Aunt Millie gave this to me, to give to you after…enough time had passed. She trusted me to know when the right time was, because she said no one knew you better.” Her mouth twisted almost painfully. “She was wrong about that, obviously, since I couldn’t even understand the simple fact that you grieved differently than I, but I decided that when you were strong enough to come here for this, that would be the time.”
He hesitated. She couldn’t blame him, for his name in Aunt Millie’s distinctive handwriting on the front of the envelope had to be painful to see. She had been his last living relative. At least she still had True. And now Hope.
Then he reached for it. His fingers brushed over her hand, seemed to hesitate for an instant on her birthstone ring. A little shiver went through her. Then he took the envelope, but didn’t open it. Instead he looked at her. And something in his expression made her say, “Did you know that when he first got home, before they tracked down Aunt Millie, he asked what would happen to you, and wondered if they’d let him adopt you?”
His eyes widened. “True said that?”
“He did. And he would have tried, if you’d really been alone.”
He was silent for a long moment before saying quietly, “Your brother is the most amazing guy I’ve ever known.”
As she’d hoped he smiled. And then he looked at the purple dragon and back at her. “Aunt Millie would have taken you, too.”
“I know.” He drew back slightly. “True told me she offered, if he thought it was too much for him at eighteen, and having to leave college.”
“Let me guess. He said it was his responsibility so he’d do it.”
“That’s my bro.”
He smiled, nodding slowly.
She went on in a rush. “You’re not really alone, Jamie. You have us. I know we’re not blood family—”
“Family isn’t always blood.”
It struck her suddenly, as he said words that were familiar to her from her daily play list. “Connections.” Fourth Scorpions song in her rotation. Family isn’t always blood/And sometimes you have to build your own.
“I always hoped that song was…about us. You and Aunt Millie and True and me.”
“Of course it is.” He gave her a sideways look. “All you had to do was ask.”
“That,” she said with rueful clarity, “would have required getting over myself, apparently.”
The smile she got then was worth the self-humbling. “Something you’ve always been able to do, Zee. Eventually.” His mouth quirked. “And something I had to constantly relearn.”
“Hard to do with millions thinking you’re all that.”
“I’ll just send ’em to you, and you can give them the truth.”
She laughed at that, and suddenly everything was fine. He tucked the letter into a pocket. “I’ll read it, when I can face it,” he promised. “Back home.”
And this time when he said it she knew he meant it.
At least for now, Jamie Templeton was home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In some ways it was like he’d never left.
After the initial buzz, things seemed to have settled. There was still the occasional…flurry when he ran into a fan. He’d gotten pretty good at recognizing the sincere ones and what they’d called the bandwagon ones, the ones who only wanted to be part of the latest big thing. Then there were the musicians, real and wannabes, who wanted to talk about his playing. Those he didn’t mind so much, especially if they had some knowledge.
And then there were the girls with other things on their mind. The occasional guy who needed to know personally he was straight, but mostly the girls. He tried to be gracious, not offend anyone, but sometimes they made it difficult. At meet and greets after a show there had been security to keep things moving, but when they’d just been out on their own, it had been trickier. The guys had known that when he gave the signal—ramming both hands through his hair—it was time for one of them to call his phone and give him a tactful excuse to bail. But he didn’t have them anymore.
And you don’t have to be polite, they’re fans of something that doesn’t exist anymore.
As soon as he thought it Aunt Millie’s voice rang in his head, telling him that while he didn’t have to be conventional, he did have to be civil. She didn’t require perfect manners, but disrespect was unacceptable.
He most liked the times when he ran into people who had known him before. To them he was still that kid who grew up here. They might admire his success, but they also remembered the rather withdrawn kid he’d been, even before that night, and didn’t hold it against him.
And they treated him that way, at least enough of them that he felt almost…normal again. And it felt better than he’d ever imagined it could.
So he signed a few autographs, posed for a few selfies, and while he wasn’t up to smiling mindlessly he kept a frown off his face and waved for the cameras in the hands of those too shy to approach him. Since he’d once been one of those, he understood.
But just as he was walking toward the grocery store—the old fridge still worked, amazingly enough—thinking this was going to be a snap, he heard a car door slam and quick footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering what local was going to either welcome him home or rag on him for staying away so long. Instead he saw a vaguely familiar female hurrying toward him. He frowned, trying to place her, and couldn’t.
But he could place her style; her whole look screamed L.A. She was dressed for a night out on the city, here at ten in the morning in Whiskey River. She couldn’t have been more out of place had she carried a sign saying, “I don’t belong here.”
He had no doubts, but a quick glance at the car she’d emerged from confirmed his guess with rental stickers out of Austin. Damn, had she flown all the way here for…him?
Rein in the ego, boy. Lots of reasons she could be here.
“Jamie! I was starting to think I’d never find you.”
Then again…
He had no idea what to say. In context, in a line after a show, he had the patter down as he thanked them for coming out. And he was, so he’d been told, good at making each one feel like they’d mattered to him in those few moments. And they did, so he always tried. With a few of the genuine ones he let it go even deeper, spent some time actually talking, about real things. Because they were the ones who mattered most, the ones he tried to reach.
And then there were the…Kims. Her name came to him suddenly, both from the times she’d draped herself over him for photos taken by friends, and cooed in his ear, and from the warnings from Rob that she was well known on the L.A. concert circuit, as a rich girl with more money than she knew what to do with. And she had apparently chosen him as her next target.
Rob’s words playe
d back in his head. You’re not the sort, Jamie boy, but I’ll warn you anyway. One hint of encouragement, and she’ll have your engagement the headline on every entertainment site on the internet. All so she can ceremoniously dump you for the next one.
She was running toward him now—a not insignificant accomplishment in those stiletto-heeled boots he supposed were her idea of Texas footwear—and he had bare seconds to think.
One hint of encouragement, Rob had said.
Okay. Right. You didn’t remember that name.
“Hello,” he said, working hard at putting the right amount of puzzlement into his voice as she came to a breathless halt in front of him.
“I looked for you all day yesterday.” She sounded as if she were trying to be teasingly pouty. It grated. “I couldn’t believe I couldn’t find you in this little place.”
She looked around, and he had the sense the wrinkling of her nose was real. Whiskey River was like a foreign country to her. She would never understand the hold this place had on the people who loved it.
He was carefully polite when he said, “I’m sorry, I know I’ve seen you before, but…” He let his voice trail off.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. As if she’d said it, he knew she was pondering if she should play it insulted. Apparently, she decided to go for the cooing.
“Oh, you poor thing, you must be so devastated after Derek. I was so worried about you, I came all this way to help.”
“You want to help? Good, I’m heading out to a friend’s horse rescue. She can always use help shoveling the manure.”
The woman blinked. Drew back for a moment. But she clearly wasn’t one to give up easily. She reached out and put an arm around his shoulder, stepping forward to stand close. Too close.
“Horses are so pretty. I’d love to see a real one.”
She wasn’t giving up. Odd, it probably wouldn’t have bothered him in L.A.—it happened often enough—but here it seemed…wrong. He was starting to feel as if he was in over his head. He was off his stride, and with no insulation of roadies and the guys, he was drowning here.
“Hey, baby!”
The cheerful call from behind him spun him around. Zee. He felt suddenly like a guy who had realized the lit dynamite he held was stuck to his hand. He watched her walk toward him with that long, graceful stride, that sexy, tousled hair lifting slightly. She reached him and threw her arms around him. She was close, so damn close, he could feel her warmth, see the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. God, he’d missed that, missed sassy Zee. She was so—
She kissed him.
Her mouth came down on his and blasted every rational thought out of his head. Heat erupted in him, sending fiery threads along every nerve. And it suddenly changed from a teasing gesture to something more. Much more. Her lips were soft, warm, and giving. He felt the brush of her tongue over his lips and gasped. What had started as sassy Zee turned to sexy Zee so fast he couldn’t catch his breath.
The other woman said something. He didn’t hear what. Couldn’t even think. And when Zee broke the kiss, the only thing that mattered in that instant was that she looked as startled as he felt.
But being Zee, she recovered quickly. She glanced at the woman, smiled sweetly. “Sorry to interrupt. I know how these moments are for fangirls. But I wanted to make sure he picked up the eggs for breakfast. I’m tired of just toast.”
As a slap-down and a territorial claim in one, it was the best he’d ever seen. Stiletto woman sputtered. “Who are you? I’ve never heard or read about anybody he—”
“Bless your heart,” Zee said gently. “He’s mine. And he was mine before he ever picked up a guitar.”
Jamie fought down the leap his heart took at those words, knowing she was just playing a part at the moment. “That I was,” he agreed. “Lock, stock, and whiskey barrel.”
Zee laughed. “How very Texan of you, darling.”
Jamie fought down a laugh; Zee had never called anyone darling in her life with good intent. He looked back at the woman, who was now looking more like a foiled predator. As, perhaps, she was.
He looked back at the woman, who looked ready to use her not inconsiderable claws. “Still want to help with that shoveling? Or do you need to get back to L.A. in time for the Quake shows?”
The woman stilled. “What? They’re not—”
“They are now. Just booked three days down the coast, Ventura to San Diego. Justin’ll be disappointed if you don’t show up, I’m sure.”
He was able to say it with absolute sincerity, because if there was anyone who reveled in that scene, who would give her the visibility she wanted and would partake of all she was offering, it was Quake front man Justin Kramer. And Jamie was honest enough to know where he stood on that particular value scale; as big as Scorpions had gotten, Quake was a much bigger name.
“And,” he added in a low voice, as if he were letting her in on a valuable secret, “I happen to know he’s doing a private show tomorrow night. I’m sure with your contacts you could find out where and get in.”
The woman was on her phone before she got back in her rented car, with barely a goodbye wave.
“Did you just throw her to the wolves?” Zee asked.
“More the other way around,” he said. “But Justin can take care of himself. And he does like…her sort of attention.”
“She’s one of those, huh? One of the minions?”
He gave her a sideways look. Thought of the last time he’d asked her to go with him. I have loved you since I was fourteen, Jamie, but I won’t be one of those women, following a rock star around. I have a life here, a good one. “Is that what you call them?”
“It has a better ring than groupie. But I guess groupie implies some things minion doesn’t.”
Like sex?
He sighed, half wishing she’d just come out and ask him if he’d ever slept with the woman. Because he could honestly answer no. And that was because nothing had, or ever could, match the fire this woman started in him. It had only taken that dramatic, completely scripted kiss to prove that. Even knowing it was done specifically for the benefit of that predatory woman, Zee Mahan still sent him flying. She always had.
He rammed a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Zee—” He broke it off, sure she didn’t want to hear whatever would have come next. Which he didn’t know, since he’d had no idea what else to say.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She looked as if she hadn’t expected that answer. And her voice went rather formal. “I’m sorry for the interruption, then. I thought you looked like you wanted rescuing.”
“I was grateful for it.”
She went very still. “Sorry about the kiss, then.”
Sorry? Sorry about the sweetest thing that had happened to him in years? “That’s what I’m mad about, all right. But not that way.”
“What?”
“I’m mad because you didn’t mean it.”
There. It was out. Zee stared at him, and he was suddenly very aware they were having this discussion in the town square, practically in the shadow of Booze Kelly’s statue.
“You’ve picked up a nasty habit, Jamie Templeton.”
“Probably a few,” he said wearily. “But which one chapped you this time?”
“You make a hell of a lot of assumptions.”
And then she was gone, leaving him staring after her, wondering if she could possibly mean what it seemed like she meant.
Ironically, that was one assumption he didn’t dare make.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zee sat looking at the sunlight dancing along the surface of the river. She sat on the bench her brother had built in this spot for just this purpose, in the shade of the knockaway trees. He’d needed, he said, a place to think. And sometimes, on the worst days, he would bring her here and they would let it out, send the grief down the river, he used to say.
Only when she was older had she realized the enormity of what Tru
e had done for her, for them. Giving up his life plans, to come home and take care of his little sister, the only family he had left. And lend a guiding hand to Jamie as well, and help Aunt Millie by fixing things that needed it, so she could focus on her own newly acquired family.
Without those two people, Zee didn’t know what would have become of either one of them.
I’m mad because you didn’t mean it.
Jamie was a very smart guy, but sometimes he could be thick as an adobe brick. Didn’t mean it? Hadn’t she never stopped meaning it? Her brother had been right that day when, in this very spot, he had told her that her breakup with Nick was inevitable.
You never give anybody a real chance, Zee. Because in your heart, you’ve never let go of Jamie.
She stared at the water, sliding past mostly in silence, only the rush where it narrowed past the limestone outcropping audible.
Anger is still caring…
Damn her wisdom-spouting brother anyway. She hated that he’d seen it, that she had converted her love into anger because it was easier to say she was mad at him than that she still loved him after he’d gone. Or maybe it was less…what, humiliating? Embarrassing? She’d always told everyone that she was so happy for him, that he’d gone chasing a huge dream and caught it. Only with those closest to her had she ever let the rest out.
And now he was here, and by all appearances was going to stay. For a while anyway. And then what? He would leave again? Smashing her heart all over again?
Only if you give it to him again.
She was so lost in her thoughts and memories that it didn’t register that she’d heard a car. The sound ended before it even got through the tangle. But the footsteps she heard. Without turning to see who it was she glanced at her phone. She’d been sitting here for over an hour, and was no closer to cutting through the snarl of her emotions. Others came here, she knew, once they’d discovered the bench True had built. And since she obviously was making no progress, she might as well surrender the peaceful spot to someone who might.
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