Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  I snorted. I didn’t want to be his friend. No, my hormones wanted a lot more action than I’d seen tonight, splayed all over Clay’s impressive chest. Which anyone could’ve photographed. I cringed.

  I couldn’t be near him again. I forgot all the reasons why I needed to stay private. Hidden would be better. I refused to let some guy, even one as kind and sexy as Clay, be the reason I was ripped apart by the media again. There wasn’t enough of me left to withstand another round.

  Pulling into the driveway, I wasn’t surprised to see my Aunt Briar’s car parked out front. The absolute best part of my life was the closeness of my family. Even Briar’s fiancé, Hayden, was more than willing to step up when the pictures broke last spring. He’d whisked Aunt Bri and me off to Sydney for a vacation.

  I’d needed that time to finish licking my wounds. But Hayden insisted I get out, not let the weight of the story grind me under. Because, as he put it, it wouldn’t blow. Briar concurred, and I figured she knew what she was talking about considering her love affair with Hayden was such a media frenzy from the beginning.

  Within the first five minutes of her very first lesson, Briar proved to be a terrible surfer, much to Hayden’s supreme disappointment. But the time alone meant Hayden and I bonded over the rip curl.

  I’d been thankful for my family’s support, but I needed to handle this story my way. I wasn’t sure what that was yet because I didn’t have all the information I needed. And I wouldn’t have that for another couple of weeks. The longer I waited, the harder pressing charges would be. I wasn’t sure I could handle something so personal playing out so publicly. I stood on the porch for a long moment, forcing the fears back down where they belonged. I had my family, and they were happy. I’d be strong for them.

  I smiled as I opened the door. Laughter spilled from the back of the house; my mom was an amazing cook, and people always congregated around to watch and smell her newest creations.

  “Hey guys,” I called.

  “Abbi!” Mason slammed into me, arms wrapping tightly around my middle. He’d turned ten a few months ago, and he was growing like a weed. Soon he’d be taller than me, which would be weird.

  “Good to see you, too, bud,” I laughed, hugging him back. The top of his head came to my shoulder now.

  Briar and Hayden stepped forward, concern building in their eyes. “What?”

  “Your eyes are red and puffy and you’re covered in grass stains,” Aunt Bri said. “What the hell happened, Abigail?”

  “I had a bit of a run-in with a guy. I’m fine because he took the brunt of the fall,” I said. Glancing down at the left knee of my jeans, I winced. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to be bruised for a few days.”

  “I hope this rolling in the grass isn’t a new college hobby,” Asher said as he gave me a side hug. I returned it, leaning my head against his shoulder.

  In so many ways, he was the only father I’d ever had. Hearing Clay articulate some of the comments I’d heard about my relationship with Asher pissed me off. Asher loved me, just as he loved Mason.

  “Your mom’s going to have something to say about using euphemisms.”

  “Puh-lease.” I had to roll my eyes as they expected. “I don’t roll anywhere. With anyone.”

  “We know that,” Asher said, his face whitening just as it had when I’d come home and had to tell them about the pictures hitting every media outlet. Yeah, they’d been that bad, but I’d refused to let anyone make a statement. I’d told them the stories didn’t deserve any attention. Definitely not a denial.

  “Hey, Abs.” Mom pulled me into a hug, and I wound my arms around her tightly, burying my nose into her long hair. She always made me feel safe and loved. “You went rolling through the grass with a guy, huh? I hope he was worth those stains.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s not going anywhere.”

  Briar raised her eyebrow. “Hayden, you and Asher can handle the salad.” She gripped my wrist in her right hand, my mom’s in her left, and tugged us toward the stairs.

  “Turn off the stove,” Mom called over her shoulder.

  Once we were up the stairs, Briar led us into my room and shut the door. I glanced around, still trying to get used to the fact I didn’t live here anymore.

  “Spill it, Abigail,” Aunt Briar demanded.

  “What?”

  “The guy. Did he hurt you?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. He saved me.” I explained the situation at the library, about the guys crowding me, grabbing me. Mom’s eyes dimmed, and her hands were clasped tight in her lap.

  “Oh, Abbi. I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “This has nothing to do with you or Asher, Mom. It was a couple of guys taking things way too far.”

  Mom didn’t look convinced. I hated that I was the reason for her distress so I rushed on.

  “So then Clay and I talked for a while. I wanted to come here. He ran out to ask me something, ended up going too fast and plowed into me instead. He caught me before I fell, making sure he took the impact.”

  I smiled a little, thinking of his face when he realized what had happened.

  “So it’s like that,” Aunt Bri said.

  “What?” I moved toward the window seat, needing space.

  “You like him.”

  I shrugged, careful to keep my face turned toward the window this time. “He’s nice.” But he’d recognized me from the photos. I’d bet anything he believed what he’d read about me. Why wouldn’t he?

  If I’d put out a statement refuting those pictures, maybe, then maybe, Clay would have seen the real me, not the assumed slutty version.

  “Sounds like,” Mom said. “Is he as cute as Luke?”

  “Way better. More mature, bigger,” I said. I sealed my lips together.

  I turned back in time to see Mom and Aunt Bri exchanging a look.

  “Why didn’t you bring him to dinner?”

  “Because we aren’t really friends. I mean, I just met him.”

  Mom stood from the bed and walked toward me. She smoothed my hair back from my forehead. I’d liked Clay touching my hair more. Much more. I shivered and clutched my arms to my chest as I relived the feel of his large hand cupping the back of my head.

  “You’ve kept so much to yourself. It’s not like you. I know you were upset about the drugs and you should be, especially since those boys took pictures . . .”

  Mom hadn’t brought it up once I’d made it clear I wasn’t talking about it. Even with her.

  “You’re different. Harder. Untrusting. I’m worried about you, Abbi. I don’t expect you to tell me everything, but I realize there’s more to the story than you’ve wanted to say. If it’s because you’re worried we’ll be upset—”

  “Everything’s good. I’m making smart decisions that won’t hurt any of us.”

  “You’re hurting yourself by blocking others from your life, Abs,” Aunt Bri said. “You’re a vibrant young woman. A year ago, I would’ve said vivacious. You, especially, need those human connections.”

  “Not with this guy. Not now.”

  “Why’s that?” Mom stepped back and studied me.

  “Because he’s Pete Rippey’s son. Can you imagine the field day the media would have with that story? I moved from a small-time, relatively untalented musician to Clay Rippey. I can already see the headlines about me trying to up my chances of fame with my own rock star in the making. No thanks. I’ve had more than enough time in tabloids already.”

  Again, Mom and Briar exchanged a look. Mom was nibbling the corner of her lip like she did when she was worried.

  “Can we eat? Whatever you made smells ah-mazing.”

  Mom continued to stand there, looking unsure. I hated that I’d broken her happiness yet again. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t change the past. I smiled, gripped her hand, gave it a little squeeze before stepping back.

  “What did he want to ask you?” Aunt Briar probed.

  “I don’t know. We started talking about something e
lse.”

  “Hmm,” Aunt Briar said. Mom was tugging on the ends of her hair.

  “I bet Mason’s starving.”

  “Always,” Mom said, but her tone made it clear she wanted to push for more information.

  I opened the door and headed down the hall. Mom and Aunt Briar trailed behind me.

  “What did you say his name is again?”

  “Clay,” I said. Just saying his name made something warm unfurl in my chest. He’d been nice in spite of my reputation. I smiled at Asher and Hayden, who wore matching expressions of relief when we entered the kitchen.

  “I turned off the stove, and I didn’t let Hayden touch anything,” Asher said.

  He snagged his glass of beer and headed to the other side of the counter. The safer side. The only one of them that could do more than microwave and boil water was my mom. It’s part of why they all hung out so much. Aunt Bri said Hayden was even more inept in the kitchen than she was.

  “Watch it, Yank. I set the table,” Hayden added, pulling my aunt into his arms and kissing the top of her head. I turned away, aching for what I’d never have—that kind of easy love was hard-won, I knew, but also so deep, nothing could rip it apart. I despaired at ever finding something close, even a pale comparison, of that love for myself.

  “Can we eat? I’m starving,” Mason cried.

  “Who’s Clay?” Asher asked. He tried to keep his need to protect me safely curled inside, but I knew he wanted to take on all my detractors, same as he would for my mom. I loved him even more for it—and for keeping his mouth shut, trusting me to make my own decisions.

  “Abbi’s new friend,” Mom said.

  I narrowed my eyes and she busied herself with serving her paella.

  “He’s Pete Rippey’s son,” Aunt Bri chimed in.

  Asher set his beer back onto the counter, eyebrow raised. “Really? I ran into Pete last week at the studio.”

  My stomach slid sideways. Clay had said he’d been asked to look out for me. “Did you tell him I was at Northern?”

  “Yeah,” Asher said. “But then we got to talking about the cancer charity event.”

  “Pete’s been great,” Aunt Briar said. “He’s one of the names that helped bring in tons of support, I’ll add. Great family.”

  “What?” I asked. “They’re going to attend the cancer counseling gala?”

  The awful concern that Pete had asked Clay to look out for me rippled into panicked certainty, making my skin chill. What if Clay went to the event? The panic popped and warmth built in its place, filling me up. I’d get to see him again. Talk to him.

  “You haven’t been on the Internet much,” Mom said, her eyes narrowing. “The Rippeys are one of the biggest donors for Briar’s counseling program.”

  “I try to avoid going online as much as possible.”

  I turned away, filling the water pitcher at the fridge. That seemed like a safe distance from my mom’s too-knowing eyes.

  “You having him play, love?” Hayden asked.

  “And not you? No way,” Aunt Bri said. “This isn’t a concert, just a charity gala. Pete’s wife, Maryanne, called me almost a year ago when I first started talking to the hospital executives about my counseling program.”

  “I didn’t realize the Rippeys were such big donors until I talked to Pete,” Asher said.

  “Oh, they’ve been amazing,” Aunt Briar said. “Their little girl has Hodgkin lymphoma. Maryanne said their family needed tons of counseling to get through all the fallout. Not just for the disease, but I hear that a lot. They’re lucky—they can afford to get everyone back to healthy mental space. That’s why they’ve decided to back the program.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Their daughter has Hodgkin’s disease?”

  “Sad story. They found out when she was eleven. She’s still fighting it.”

  “Shit,” Asher said, shaking his head. His hand fell on Mason’s shoulder, curled into Mason’s shirt. Asher’s baby daughter died before she turned one, and even I caught glimpses of his grief when he looked at Mason or me.

  “Still?” I asked, my voice swinging higher. “So she’s still alive?”

  Mom said losing someone wasn’t something you ever got over. It was something you learned to live with.

  I hoped I would never find out. Well, besides my dad. And I’d feel worse about it, but he’d always been sick, talking to me about his imminent death from the time I was old enough to understand.

  Clay hadn’t mentioned his little sister when I talked about my dad. My stomach churned. How bad off was she?

  “Do you know how she’s doing?” Hayden asked.

  He’d lost his mom to cancer last year. In fact, that was how he and Aunt Briar met. They’d been visiting the same hospice center.

  Aunt Bri shook her head. “They were hoping for news soon. At least, that’s what Maryanne said last I spoke with her. It was really touch-and-go for a while, but Maryanne said Cassidy was at home again. That sounded promising. Can you ask Clay, Abbi?”

  I shrugged. “I only met him today. We didn’t really get that far into our personal lives. And until he tells me about her, seems like an invasion of his privacy.”

  “You’re right,” Mom said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to let him know we’re all thinking about her. All of them.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. It might hurt. I liked Clay. More, I was attracted to him. To ask about his sister left me open to more questions about me—and Clay had already shown a distinct interest in that night at the frat house.

  “So Pete’s son is at Northern?” Hayden asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to more positive territory.

  “Abs?” Aunt Bri asked.

  “Both of them, yeah. But I’m talking about Clay. He helped me at the library tonight. We don’t have classes together or anything. It’s not like I’ll see him around much. His older brother teaches my biochem class. I can ask him next week. Our lab’s not until Tuesday and it’s weird talking to the TA about personal stuff.”

  I glared at Aunt Bri. Her big mouth. This time Mom and Asher had one of those wordless conversations.

  “Stop it,” I snapped. “You don’t need to worry about me. Clay’s nice and maybe we’ll hang out again.” I forced myself to shrug like I wasn’t that interested. Before anyone could ask me anything else, I picked up two plates and carried them to the table. “Sit by me, Mason. I want to hear about your week.”

  He scrambled into the chair next to me, words pouring out of his mouth. I nodded, not really paying attention. I nibbled at the paella. I’m sure it was delicious but I no longer had much of an appetite.

  Instead, I was picturing Clay’s green eyes. I’d liked how they’d warmed up as we talked. He really did understand, not just about the fame but the fear of losing someone important. He’d know all about that helpless anger I didn’t know what to do with when I couldn’t change the outcome.

  I shouldn’t have run. Next time, I’d apologize.

  If there was a next time.

  I bit my lip, moving the rice around my plate. I’d have to make sure there was a next time.

  “Are you Abigail Dorsey?”

  I turned toward the high-pitched voice. The girl speaking wasn’t even five feet. Her gamin’s face was pinched tight, and her hands were balled into fists. Whatever this was, I could tell it wasn’t going to end well. Especially since she’d accosted me the moment I walked into my dorm at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.

  “I am. And you are?”

  “Bethany.”

  She didn’t offer her hand or her last name. Definitely bad.

  I walked across the empty lobby to a set of couches and sat on the one closest to the exit. She settled onto the very edge of the one opposite me.

  “I’ll be quick. Stay away from Clay Rippey. He’s mine.”

  Well, that wasn’t what I’d expected.

  “Um . . .” I wasn’t sure how to respond. Clay and I hadn’t discussed his relat
ionship status, but I’d thought he wanted to kiss me in the quad. I’d sprawled on his chest and he’d held me there.

  Shame flooded my cheeks. No wonder this girl was here, to stake her claim. I’d acted exactly like she’d expect me to based on those photos.

  “Look, I know about your behavior at Marin Tech. I’m sure it’ll be harder for you if those pictures see another spike, so just leave Clay alone. Otherwise, I will make sure they’re all over campus.”

  I stood slowly, my body shaking. Steve’s betrayal had devastated me, but this . . . no, I would not be emotionally trampled again. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “I mean it, Abigail. If I see you two together, I’m going to destroy your rep—”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She was angry, and I knew she meant every word, but, really, there wasn’t anything left to my reputation.

  “Clay’s my friend. Our parents are in the same industry. I’m going to see him at a charity event next weekend. Threatening me isn’t going to change that. In fact, it’d make the whole situation worse. Because we both have to go. And we’ll talk. The press will take pictures. They’ll speculate. Social media will froth at how I’m not good enough for him. It’s what always happens.”

  I wasn’t sure that was true, and I was talking with a bravado I didn’t feel. But if I didn’t stand up for myself now, Bethany wouldn’t stop harassing me.

  “You think he likes you for you?” Bethany hissed. Her cute pixie face twisted with disgust. “Please! Clay wants his women focused on him. You, you’re not even close to what Clay deserves. So even if he seems interested, it’ll fade. Especially if he sees those pictures.”

  I shook my head, frustration and shame battling with surprise. All of which fell away when I realized exactly what Bethany had said. Steve had intimated he had more graphic pictures—ones worse than the ones that were already released. I hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out what he planned to do with them.

  “Clay knows what really happened.” Okay, not entirely true, but he would know, because I’d tell him. Soon. Nerves jangled in my belly. I sucked in a deep breath, forcing away the doubt and shame. “Just like my family does. I won’t be bullied again. You don’t want to go there, Bethany, or you will hear from my lawyer. Now, seriously, you need to leave.”