by Cari Quinn
“You aren’t going to lose me.” She pocketed her phone, then shifted until she could rub his back with her good hand. “Ever.”
“Damn straight I’m not.” He reached over his shoulder to take her hand, and she grasped his tightly.
“I had some problems in the past.” Biggest understatement in the world. “Of my own making, most of them. But I fought my way free. I had help, of course, so much help. I still did the work. I’m still doing it.”
She didn’t mention the bottles of pain pills she refused to touch. She’d obviously been on plenty of drugs in the hospital, but that hadn’t been under her control and she’d been too out of it in any case to think twice about what was being pumped into her system. That escape had been as welcome as sleep. It always was for her, which was why she couldn’t open those bottles. Advil would have to be enough. No matter how bad the pain got, or how many nights she tossed and turned. If she turned that key in the lock, there was no guarantee she could turn it back.
That she could stop there. Especially now.
Nicky squeezed her fingers, saying nothing.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s up to you and Li to protect me. Or to go to bat for me. I know you love me too,” she said when Lila would’ve spoken. “I never had a sister, but now I have you.”
Lila’s eyes went bright, and she nodded.
“I still need to stand on my two feet. I have to figure out how. All this time, I thought I was in the band on my own merits.”
Lila was quick to answer this time. “You are. You’re an incredible guitarist. No one can dispute that.”
“You fucking taught me to play. Damn whiz kid,” Nick added. “You’re insanely talented, and I’d be jealous of you if we didn’t share the same DNA.”
“I’m not standing on my own if he’s behind me,” she said quietly to Lila. “If the only way I can be in the band is if Nick assumes the risk of me being there, maybe I shouldn’t be.”
Even saying it scalded her throat. The band was her life. But if she couldn’t be trusted, if she had to lean on her baby brother—three minutes younger or not, still counted—then maybe she wasn’t in the right place. She had to earn her spot on her own.
“Fuck that shit.” Nicky turned to face her. “That agreement was my idea, just like you joining the band. I wanted you to know what it was like to be up there on stage. To get to live your dream every goddamned night. And you know what? You bore the weight of that dream far easier than I ever have. You’re never afraid to play.”
“But you still are, and it’s not fair to you to have to get up on stage for me,” she whispered.
“Don’t talk to me about fair when you could’ve been killed.” He kicked at the bed, sending the iron frame into the wall. “I could’ve fucking lost you, but you want me to cry that I’ve gotta do what I love for a few different crowds? Big deal. Michael is family, Jules is family, Molly is family. Even that fuckhole Mal is family. Most of those people on that stage are important to people I love, so they’re important to me. And I can do it.” He faced her, his amber eyes alive with anger. And more. “Let me do this for you. Let me be there for you for all the times I wasn’t. When I turned my back on you and let you figure shit out alone.”
She wanted to argue. She needed to. But she couldn’t say no to him, not when he saw this as some sort of balancing of the scales. It wasn’t, of course. Except feelings weren’t always based on reality.
She got that too. There was someone she felt indebted to, and no amount of assurances she wasn’t had changed that one bit. She had no clue how to begin to repay him, but she would try.
Lila’s phone buzzed on her hip and she glanced at it, her chin wobbling for a second before she lifted her gaze to Elle and Nicky. “The date of the services have been set. For Randy,” she said after a moment.
Again, the knowledge he was gone slammed into her all over again. She swayed with it, reaching out to steady herself on her brother. “When?”
“Not for a few weeks. After the first show. Randy has already been cremated.” She cleared her throat, then tipped back her head to stare at the ceiling before she continued. “This will be a celebration of his life.”
“A celebration.” She moved around Nicky to sag to the mattress, blindly grasping for her guitar still in its case as if the battered wood was her pacifier. In a way, it was. “What is there to celebrate now?” She shut her eyes as more tears filled them.
So much for not crying today. She was beginning to think there was no end in sight.
“He was a wonderful man, gave us all a lot to emulate.” Lila brushed a hand over Elle’s hair. “For Jules and Tristan, we have to try to focus on his legacy rather than what happened.”
Elle said nothing. Though she knew Lila was suffering too, it was much different for her. She didn’t feel as if every heartbeat she took belonged to another. Should have been theirs.
“He was going to be a daddy.” Elle wiped at her cheeks. “I will never understand this. And if it wasn’t an accident—”
Lila crouched before her and took her hand between both of hers. “We’ll find out what happened. I promise you.”
Elle nodded. Sure, they’d find out, but would they ever tell her? Would she ever be considered strong enough to take it?
Crying every other sentence isn’t exactly proving them of your strength, is it? Fucking woman up, Crandall.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment when she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “Thank you for everything. But you should go. The girls are waiting for you back home.”
“They’re fine,” Nicky said roughly. “We don’t have to go. Fuck, if you want us to, we’ll bed down in this two-by-four tonight with you.”
Lila didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We’ll stay. Just say the word.”
Elle smiled, probably for the first genuine time since the night of the concert. “Three of us in a twin bed would probably break the laws of gravity.” She gave Lila a gentle push. “Go on, both of you. Go kiss Charlie and Avery for me. Tell them I’ll bring them some fun stuff from here. Lots and lots of toys.”
She might not be trusted to actually handle her life without substances, but at least she had money and could spoil her nieces. She was good enough for that.
“Just bring them you, okay? Soon. Don’t make us miss you.” Lila leaned forward and cupped her head, kissing the top of her hair. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
When Nicky didn’t so much as glance their way, Elle sighed and rose to go to him. “Don’t I get a goodbye hug, you jerk?”
He pulled her in for a quick embrace then nudged her back. “You’re going to call me every day. No, twice a day. Actually, maybe after every meal—”
She had to laugh as she cupped his scruffy jaw. He still hadn’t shaved, and she hadn’t seen him this beardy since…well, ever. “You’re such a good daddy,” she teased. “Who would’ve thunk it?”
The tops of his cheeks went pink. “It’s just practice.”
Lila came up behind him and linked her arms around his waist as she rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s more than practice, but we’ll let him keep a few of his illusions.”
“Don’t gang up on me. I’m already out-numbered at home.”
“And you love it.” Lila kissed the side of his neck, but her playfulness didn’t fool Elle for a second. Her forehead was pinched, her cheeks pale. She was as worried as Nicky, and trying like hell not to show it.
“I’ll call all the time, I swear.” Elle smiled for their benefit and took a deep breath. She tired so easily nowadays, and she’d need a nap before she did any unpacking. “And I’ll be home before you know it. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
“We miss you already. So do the girls.” Lila’s throat moved. “You know, if you need anything while you’re here, my parents are just a few hours away. They’ll come right away. You just say the word.”
“I will. But I’ll be fine.” She wiggled the fingers
on her healing arm. “I’m on the mend, see? By the time I’m back I’ll be ready to duel with Nicky again.”
He snorted. “Liar. You would never duel with me.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“No, I figured you were too nice to want to smoke my ass.”
She laughed. “Get out of here. Seriously. Let me know when you’re home, okay?”
“We will.” Lila waved and hooked her fingers in the back pocket of Nicky’s jeans, tugging him with her when he appeared rooted to the floor. “Have fun if you can,” she added just as Nick chimed in.
“Be safe.”
“Yes, grandma.” Elle laughed and waved to them, her face crumpling the second the door shut.
She didn’t cry so much as curl into herself, stumbling toward the bed and practically shoving her guitar case to the floor. Not like her. Not at all. But if she didn’t get horizontal soon, it would happen whether or not she wanted it to. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since… Well, since before the last show. She’d been out of it in the hospital, but half the time she’d awakened due to nightmare shapes chasing her in her sleep. Now and then, a phantom hand reached out for her just before the shape got her for good.
It didn’t take a sleuth to figure out whose hand it was. She just didn’t know what to do with slotting Mal into a whole different spot in her head.
Before, she’d either worked on ignoring him or dismissed him as her dickhead bandmate. End of story. He’d kicked her cheating ex-boyfriend’s ass on the bus once, but she’d figured that was more to expend energy that out of a desire to defend her. They’d never had so much as a real conversation not peppered with mutual insults and a heavy amount of sarcasm and eye-rolling. Their use for each other had been exactly none.
Now she was supposed to see him differently. Oh, he probably didn’t want her to. If ever there was a man who’d been slotted into a reluctant hero role, it was Mal. That didn’t mean she could forget what he’d done for her.
Ever.
She fumbled for her phone and dragged it up to her face, squinting at the screen and typing one-handed. She texted Michael, offering a quick, pithy explanation of why she was staying in New York a bit longer. Her recovery was a handy excuse, so she used it. He replied in the usual ways.
We miss you.
Wish we could have stayed longer.
Let us know if you need anything.
She responded in kind, then tried to ask her not-so-casual question about Mal’s location as casually as possible.
The proof of her strained relationship with her bandmate was that Mal evidently had an AirBnB somewhere in town yet Lila hadn’t seen fit to give her his address. Of course there was another reason for that. Elle was no dummy. Her sister-in-law saw Mal as the wolf and Elle as a little lamb in need of protection. Whether or not Mal had saved her life, it didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that Lila had a hand in raising Mal, albeit a small one as he’d been a teenager when she married his and Michael’s father.
Mal was dangerous, and Elle was formerly her own kind of danger, so according to Lila and her brother, she was to avoid Mal at all costs. Different planets would not be asking too much.
Michael didn’t answer right away. Elle chewed on her thumbnail and shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable with the stupid sling. The pain was usually manageable even without pain pills, though she still had the tingling and numbness to contend with at times. But it was hard as hell to get situated.
Several minutes later, Michael sent through an address in Queens. And a comment about Mal not expecting anything from her.
Sure, he didn’t. Why would he? He hadn’t even expected them to say hello and goodbye though they’d shared a stage for how long now? So that was more of the same.
She thanked Michael for the help and immediately surfed to the high-end musical shop she bought strings and picks from—and occasionally, a new baby for her collection. Someday she’d have a real house for her prized guitars rather than a spit-shined rack in her one-bedroom apartment in Studio City.
Someday.
After putting her selection into the cart, she paid extra for expedited shipping and copied over the address Michael had given her for Mal. Figuring out what to say in the accompanying card was more difficult. In the end, she went with simple and honest.
Thank you so much for what you did. If you ever want to talk, text me. I’ve been thinking about you.
It seemed so inadequate. So pathetic. Then again, she was being nice. Not everything she’d thought about him was kind.
Hey, even saving someone’s life couldn’t wipe out the years that had come before. It just couldn’t. But it sure as hell went a long way at blurring out some of the lesser offenses.
She made a face. Like him calling her Little Ricki just to piss her off.
Fucker.
She hit the continue button before she added that too just for spite. The fucker part not Little Ricki.
At the last second, she hit the back button and added his moniker for her to the end of the note. Let the big behemoth wonder if she was seriously referring to herself in his chosen way or if she was flipping him the bird in her own subtle manner.
She still wasn’t sure herself, but she knew one thing when she finally closed her eyes—she was genuinely smiling for the first time in days.
He was still a fucker though.
Always.
Chapter Four
He had his dick in his hand when the mailman rang the buzzer. For half a minute, Mal debated answering.
Then his cock pulsed and a trickle of pre-cum slickened his hand.
Nah. Not wasting this for some flyers and shit when I don’t even live here. Who forgets to turn off their mail when they’re out of the country anyway?
He kept right on jerking it while the beleaguered middle-aged man he’d seen trudging around the neighborhood in a beige dome rain hat—even when it wasn’t raining—sat on the buzzer. Took some perverse satisfaction in cupping his balls as the guy added extra pressure and made the buzzer last extra-long.
Mal was adding extra pressure too. Fuck, that felt good. Not half as good as a nice, tight pussy or a warm, willing mouth, but he’d make do.
That was the story of his life lately.
The buzzer went silent. Finally. Mal let out a groan and pulled harder on his shaft, working it with his hand and squirting on an extra dollop of baby oil. It was a pathetic substitute for the dampness of a woman. As was his hand. Especially when he’d lost the damn rhythm now, and guess what, Rain Hat was propping his elbow up on the buzzer again.
Fucking hell.
Mal jerked up his jeans and wiped his oily hand on his hip. So much for a little tension relief before he went out to grab something to eat and looked for a club he could hole up in for the night. He didn’t mind his own company. Just the opposite. But this week, he wasn’t able to settle. Understandable, considering recent events.
The looking over his shoulder, however, was not. He hadn’t done that in a while. The kind of attention he was getting was crazy, and all for just being a decent guy. His bandmate had been at risk of further injury, so he’d helped her out of the way.
Then he’d ridden to the hospital with her, and held her hand, and had to be forcibly drawn away from her by threat of physical violence—by not one but two security guards who’d muscled him out of the ICU when he’d been about to cause a major frigging scene.
He’d just wanted to ensure she was okay. That was all. But the media was playing their tiny harps, and flashing their photos of him carrying Elle out to the ambulance, pushing his way through the crowd as if the people didn’t exist. And bam, hero.
What the fuck.
Rain Hat was getting really creative now, tapping out a melody with the buzzer. Was that an Iron Butterfly classic or was he truly losing his mind?
He fastened the button on his jeans and took his sweet ass time walking down the hall from the bedroom to the front door. The AirBnb he’d rented i
n Queens was surprisingly spacious, especially for the sum he was paying for it, but he wasn’t doing much more than crashing there to sleep in between picking up gigs.
Yes, gigs. The guy who hadn’t wanted to join Warning Sign was now sitting in with bands all over town for a night or two, whomever was short-handed or wanted to change up their sound. He wasn’t choosy. The money didn’t matter. He needed to get out of his own head and apparently, slamming the skins with people he didn’t know was the only way he knew how to do it anymore.
Even fucking didn’t get the job done. Not that he’d tried to hook up with anyone since the show. His dick had been limper than undercooked lasagna noodles until this morning’s dream.
The one where he’d awakened with his fist around his cock and the image of Elle’s pretty pink lips about to suck him off seared behind his eyes.
The buzzer rang once more and Mal tapped out the security code to unman the door before hauling it open. He knew better. His life was all about not assuming who was on the other side, especially now. But Rain Hat had a routine, always delivering to this block between ten-thirty and ten fifty-seven. Never at eleven. Never at ten-twenty.
Mal smirked. Oh shit, look at that. It was now ten fifty-nine. Schedule change.
“About time,” Rain Hat growled, thrusting a package at him. “You need to sign for this so I can be on my way.”
“I don’t live here. Remember? We got into it the first day I was here, when you had a magazine you insisted must be mine. Just a squatter for another week, dude.”
