Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  “That doesn’t sound like Abbi. No wonder Lia freaked out. Lia didn’t get stitches? Okay, I’ll look in a sec. Want me to call her? Abbi’s phone. Got it.”

  Simon disconnected, his thoughtful expression sliding into grimness.

  “Dahlia’s hurt?” I asked.

  “She got banged up.” His eyes widened as he looked at something on his phone. His breath hissed through his teeth. He turned the screen toward me so I could see.

  I yelped a curse and snatched the phone from his hand. Dahlia’s eyes were dilated and her mouth pulled down in annoyance or pain. Dried blood caked her from temple to neck. A big bruise marred her cheek, and a bandage covered a cut above her eyebrow.

  I handed back his phone and pulled out mine.

  “What are you doing?” Simon asked.

  “I’m calling her to make sure she’s gotten proper care.” I put the phone to my ear. It rang and rang. “Her daughter’s fine?”

  “Abbi’s home, safe.”

  “Why isn’t Dahlia answering her phone?” I demanded.

  “It broke during a scuffle with a raccoon. Want to try Abbi’s?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  15

  Dahlia

  I snatched the phone from Abbi’s hand.

  “Hi,” I said, shifting the phone, trying to find a comfortable position. There wasn’t one. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “I wanted to hear you say you’re fine. Shit, Dahlia. Your face.”

  “Simon showed you the picture? He’s in so much trouble.”

  “I’ll tell him,” he said, the laughter building in his voice. Abbi was sitting at the end of the couch, staring at me like I was a seven-headed hydra. I kicked her with my foot, jarring my face. I wasn’t doing that again.

  “I’m supposed to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” she said.

  “Part of your punishment means you need to leave now,” I said to Abbi, trying to cover the mouthpiece of her phone with my free hand.

  She scowled at me. “Fine. I’ll go research concussions on my computer, but don’t go to sleep without telling me.”

  “Why’s your daughter in trouble?” Asher asked.

  “Because it’s her fault I’m busted up.”

  “She hit you?” Asher asked, his voice filled with confusion.

  “No, her phone was off while she was on a date. I called her friend’s mom who’s married to the county sheriff. A raccoon was in my garage and tried to eat me. Rhonda called her husband to check on me, and he clobbered me with my front door.”

  “The sheriff assaulted you?”

  “I live in a bad reality TV show, what can I say?”

  Asher laughed, and I wanted to smile until I remembered how much it hurt to move my face.

  “Seems like. Simon said you have a concussion.”

  “I might have a concussion. I declined a ride to the ER to find out.”

  He blew out a breath straight into the phone so it sounded like a mini tornado. “Dahlia, that’s not a good idea.”

  “It’s my decision to make.”

  “Are you always this stubborn?”

  “Yep. I’m quietly independent and opinionated.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  I wondered if he was running his hand across the back of his neck. I’d bet money he was. And his hazel eyes would be browner at the moment, his thick brows pulled low over his straight nose. I loved that grumbly look. He used to get it all the time when the guys argued about melody and rhythm.

  “Look, I’m worried about you. Simon said your place is pretty remote.”

  “I appreciate the concern, really I do, but . . .” He was silent for a long moment, probably waiting for me to finish my statement. I couldn’t.

  “Before you tell me it’s none of my business, I’m making it my business. I care about you, Dahlia.”

  Warmth bubbled in my stomach. He’d said he wanted me before, but caring was significant.

  “Yes, by the way,” I said.

  “What? I’m not following you . . . It’s probably the concussion.” His voice roughened with concern. “Have Abbi drive you to the hospital. Right now.”

  “You can read my new manuscript. When it’s finished.”

  “You started?” His voice seemed to smile, causing the warmth to spread through my chest. “Put in some hot sex scenes.”

  “You did not just say that.”

  “Hey, it’s the only sex I’m going to be seeing or having. Make it hot.”

  “I’m going to hang up now.”

  “One more thing.”

  “What?” I said, biting my lip to keep from smiling.

  “I want to come out and see you.”

  The bubbles of happiness multiplied exponentially, spreading through my whole body, making me lightheaded.

  “We’ll collaborate on the sound track,” he said.

  The bubbles all popped. “It may fall through. I have a few days to get my ending in.”

  “You’ll get it done.”

  “I’m not sure I deserve that kind of faith. I don’t want to make your life harder, Asher.”

  “I really want to do this sound track if I can get Jessica off my back. I talked to Bill earlier, and he’s on board. The other guys will love it. Look, I want to see you. I’ll bring Mason. He’s on his Easter break.”

  “What are you going to tell Jessica?”

  “The truth. We’ll get some work done on our project while I’m there, but I mostly need to make sure you’re okay. I’m coming no matter what. I just hoped you’d want me there.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  He was quiet for a long minute. Noise from the bar, mainly laughter, sifted through his phone. “Know how we talked about friends? You offered, and I really need one now.”

  I gripped the phone, feeling some of his pain through the thin piece of plastic. “Then you’re invited,” I whispered.

  “Good. Take down your dating profile.”

  “How did you know about that?” I gasped.

  “You linked it to your Facebook account. All those guys are assholes. You can do a lot better.”

  “Who says I’m looking for anything more than a satisfying screw?” I demanded.

  “You’re better than that, Dahlia Moore Dorsey. Take it down. Please. I’ll send you flight details.”

  “You’re pushy.”

  “And you’re stubborn,” he said. I could tell he was smiling. “I can’t wait to see what color your face is when I get there.”

  I gasped once more. “I revoke your invitation.”

  “Too late. I accepted. See you in a few days. And call someone if the pain gets worse or you see double.”

  “You know a lot about concussion symptoms,” I fussed.

  “Too much. Night, Dahlia.”

  “Night, Tristan Asher Smith.”

  “You have no idea how much I like hearing my name from your mouth.” He hung up the phone.

  When I struggled to get up, Abbi was by my side, helping me.

  “Did you listen to my conversation?” I asked, exasperated.

  “No. Swear on Dad’s grave. But I now have Asher Smith’s cell number in my phone.” She grinned at the device.

  “Don’t you dare hand out his number.”

  “Totally get that, Mom.” Her face fell, her eyes filling with tears when she touched my cheek. “I’m really sorry about tonight.”

  “My head hurts,” I mumbled, my eyes sagging.

  “Let’s get you to bed.”

  16

  Asher

  As I ended the call, Simon folded his hands on the table and met my challenging gaze. “I like you, Asher. I respect you as a musician.”

  “But?” I settled back in my chair, sipping my new beer.

  “Actually no ‘but.’ I think you’ll be good for Lia. She’d be pissed I said that. But you need to know that Lia’s changed a lot since you knew her. Mostly because of Doug.”


  “Got that. She deserves to be happy.”

  Simon met my eyes, his holding a type of misery I knew mine reflected. We had different reasons for hurting over situations we couldn’t change, but I appreciated his willingness to share.

  “She does. She and Doug, they met when she transferred into high school partway through her freshman year. Her dad was killed on some military mission.”

  “She told me that.”

  Simon’s eyebrow rose to his hairline. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents.” Simon stared down into his beer, lost in some memory. “I’ve never seen two people so involved in each other. The rest of us always felt like we were intruding.” He smiled. “I tried to find something like that until I realized it was unhealthy.”

  “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working.” I took a sip of my drink, enjoying the thick slide of hops across my tongue. At his look, I shook my head. “I left Cactus Arrow because I wanted Dahlia myself.”

  Simon nodded. “I wondered. ‘Moonshine Eyes,’ that’s Dahlia?”

  I nodded. Simon blew out a breath.

  “When Doug found out he was sick, he became obsessive, hurtful.”

  There was an underlying story there. I could hear it in Simon’s slight hesitation.

  “Huntington’s screws with your brain. I needed to believe it was the disease and not my brother doing those things. But . . .” Simon’s lips folded inward, and he dropped his gaze from mine.

  I turned to stare out the window at the hazy Seattle night. Lights winked in all directions. A huge sprawl that balanced at the edge of Puget Sound. Sadness had filled Lia’s eyes when she said she didn’t believe in love anymore. Death wouldn’t have stripped her of that core belief.

  But betrayal would have.

  Simon swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what you’ve got going on in your life, but Lia hasn’t dealt with all the baggage Doug dumped on her. She’ll tell you she doesn’t want another rocker, that the lifestyle sucks.”

  “Noted,” I grunted. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

  Simon considered that. “No, that’s not it. I want her to be happy.”

  “Doug screwed around, didn’t he?”

  “We know how easy sex can be when you’re an entertainer.” Simon swallowed the last of his beer, his thumb moving up to circle the rim of his glass.

  “Yeah, I do.” I pushed back from the table. “I think I’m going to head back to my place.”

  I followed Simon out the door. Stopping, I looked up at the cloudy sky. The raging burn I’d felt when I walked into the bar had been replaced by anticipation.

  I’d inserted myself into Dahlia’s life, which was more complicated than I’d anticipated. I was smart enough to know she was hesitant about what my visit meant. If I were honest with myself, I wasn’t sure what it meant either.

  All I knew was that I needed to see her, and more, I liked how much calmer and focused I was when I was near her.

  17

  Dahlia

  I woke up with a face inches from mine. I couldn’t make out any features, but I knew it wasn’t Abbi. The eyes were lighter, not the violet-blue I knew best. I screamed and flailed, managing to knock my sister in the mouth. My battered face throbbed in response, and I groaned.

  “Dammit, Lia, that hurt.” Briar dabbed at her lip, her brow scrunched.

  “My face isn’t real happy about this wake-up either. What were you doing?”

  “I was looking at the cut on your forehead. You know, the reason I came to visit.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and took my chin in her hand, turning my face enough to see the bruise on my left cheekbone.

  “That hurts. You weren’t supposed to come until morning.”

  “It’s almost afternoon.”

  “Really?”

  Briar nodded.

  “I woke up at two in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep for a while so I worked on my material for HBO.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Briar hugged me, her long arms winding around me like Dad’s used to. I hugged her back just as hard.

  “I’m so proud of you for taking back your life,” Briar said. She sat back and tipped my chin again. “That bruise is a doozy. The cut, thankfully, didn’t go down to the next level of tissue. But you do need to keep it clean and the scab moist to avoid scarring.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Moore.”

  The skin around her eyes tightened. “I’m dating a doctor.”

  “Sorry, Bri. That was insensitive.”

  “Premed classes were a long time ago, but I do remember quite a bit.”

  Doug’s illness had affected my sister, too. She’d been so set to be a doctor until we found out Doug’s timeline had shrunk. Briar switched her major to journalism a week later, unable to handle the idea of losing people she cared about. We’d both had plenty of grief in our lives, and seeking out more was self-flagellation. At least that’s what Briar had told me then.

  “So . . . tell me about Asher. Abbi said he called you last night.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “You lack some important gene. I’d say its romance, but I’ve read your books. It’s not imagination either because some of those positions you wrote about took a lot of creative thinking.”

  “I like him. A lot. But he’s even more entrenched in the rocker lifestyle than Doug ever was. So liking him is a huge mistake that’ll end up breaking my heart. Again.”

  Briar pursed her lips. Instead of arguing like I expected her to, she dropped her head. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lia. I came to help my big sister. This is a first for me, and I’d really like to have a better experience than pretty much any other time in our relationship.”

  I ran my hand over her hair, like I used to. I could tell my injury wasn’t the only reason Briar was here. “Be straight with me, then. You came out here because you’re running from something.”

  She looked up, and I wasn’t surprised to see the tears in her eyes.

  “You always know.” She sighed, fighting her tears. “Ken wants me to get pregnant. He says I’m too focused on my work.”

  “You’re thirty years old, Sweet Briar,” I said, falling back on our Dad’s nickname for her. “If you aren’t ready for babies, he needs to respect how you feel.”

  “Why can’t he see that I like my job and I’m good at it?”

  “The real reason?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Because he’s a selfish asshole.”

  Briar slid across the bottom of my bed. “He’s a rich asshole.”

  “You aren’t going to be hungry again, Briar. You’re the editor-in-chief for a well-respected newspaper. You’ve been offered a book deal, and you can probably go to any paper in any city in the country. Plus, I won’t let you starve. Once was enough.”

  I gripped my stomach, remembering those weeks before our mom came to get us. They’d shaped Briar and me so differently. I’d launched myself at the first person to show me affection, never wavering in my loyalty to Doug. Briar became introspective, standoffish, not the gregarious little girl I remembered.

  “I needed to hear that,” Briar sighed. “It’s one of the reasons I came out here. Don’t be mad, but it’s also a business trip. I’m going to meet with the head of papers in Spokane and maybe Boise.”

  “Good. Build the life that makes you happy, Briar.”

  She gave a weak smile and said, “Back to Asher Smith.”

  “He’s nice,” I sighed. “Nicer than I expected.”

  “Mmm. Not the adjective I would have chosen, but go on.”

  “He’s coming to see me. He’s bringing his son out for Easter.”

  Briar scrambled up to her knees, her eyes huge. “Holy shit-cakes! We have so much to do.”

  “Why? He’s just coming to hang out. We’re collaborating on a sound track. Well, maybe. If I can write something
Garcia and Paul like.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We both use language in our jobs. Think what collaborate means, Lia.”

  Briar ran to my closet. Clothes flew out, a huge pile forming. “You went shopping. Thank God. Abbi can spend the night with her friend Sally. You’re coming to Spokane with me, and I’m getting you all sex-kittened up.”

  I would have gaped at her, but my face hurt too much. “You are not sex-kittening me.”

  “Full leg wax. Maybe a Brazilian. It’s all the rage these days.”

  “Stop. I’m not having sex with Asher. Despite the fact I realized I miss it,” I muttered, flopping back against the pillow, which made my face throb. “Speaking of, Asher made me promise to take down my dating profile. Not hard to promise when my two dates were such disasters.”

  Briar stared at me, looking like a fish too long out of water.

  “Waxing appointment. Then new underwear. Get in the shower. I’m calling Rhonda right now. She’ll understand.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t boss me around, Briar.”

  “Then stop being an idiot. You’d really ruin a chance with the man you’ve pined for since you were a teenager? This is a second chance at something amazing.” Briar pointed her finger at me, her voice going low and serious. “I refuse to let you screw this up. I understand why you wouldn’t trust him, but he’s not Doug.”

  My chest tightened with the old, familiar pain. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

  “I was here. I saw your face when you found out the truth about Doug.” Briar sat on the edge of the bed and gripped my hand. “Doug hurt you, Lia. I’d be gun-shy a second time, too. But Asher is older, more established, and I bet he’s looking for something that’ll last.”

  “You can’t know that.” I tamped down the burgeoning hope. “He’s getting a divorce.”

  “From a woman who treats him like Doug treated you. Marriage vows mean something. Faithfulness means something.” Her eyes were earnest, her voice firm. “Get up. You’re getting your head looked at by a plastic surgeon in a couple hours. Ken set it up. It’s his way to try to get me pregnant.”