Live Your Dream (Redfall Dream Series Book 2)

by BB Miller

  “Grab a torque wrench,” was all he said. When I passed him the wrong tool, he didn’t laugh at me or give me a slap across the face—both things I was used to receiving from adults. He just nodded his head to the table, and said, “The other one there.”

  We worked well into the night on that bike, losing track of time. One night. That’s all it took and I was hooked. Finally, I was productive and doing something other than worrying about where my next meal was coming from or wondering if I was going to get stabbed for sleeping somewhere I shouldn’t.

  Over the next year we fell into a routine of sorts. A few times a week we’d end up at his garage, and we’d work until night fell. He’d order pizza, or we’d sit in the garage with bowls of his famous homemade stew. When my mother was alive, meals were an afterthought. I’d be lucky to dip some stale crackers into a half-empty jar of peanut butter for dinner.

  I started looking forward to the days he worked at the group home. Then one day a few months before my eighteenth birthday, everything changed. We had finished up working on another bike, and he asked me to come inside so he could show me something.

  I only went into his house to take a piss in the small bathroom. I never ventured any farther. Didn’t think I was welcome to, so his suggestion we go inside was something new, and it made me nervous.

  “Relax, Matt. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “I’m not scared of anything.” It was a lie, and Tom of all people knew it.

  But he just strode to the door that led to his house. “Mhmm.”

  Hands clenched into fists, I followed him down a short, carpeted hallway and into a basic kitchen. The place was old but clean, and I could smell the stew of his cooking away in the Crock-Pot on the counter. My stomach growled. He nodded to the round table and a single beige envelope that sat in the middle.

  “Have a seat.”

  “I’m good here.” Living in fear most of your life did things to you. Protective mode was instinct. But this was Tom and, up to this point, he’d done nothing but save my sorry ass more times than I could count.

  “You’re going to be eighteen soon,” he said.

  “An adult,” I added. Although where I would end up once I reached that particular milestone was a mystery. Too old for a group home, no foster family in sight, my gut told me I’d be back on the streets within a month of my birthday.

  He let out a low laugh. “Jury’s still out on that one.” He passed me the envelope. “I’ve been doing some research,” he started, his typical hard exterior softening.

  “Research?”

  “Into adoption.” The world, my heart, everything just stopped. My knees buckled, and I had to grab hold of one of the chairs to keep from falling down. The big intimidating man just stood staring at me. This man I had come to respect, who had bailed me out of a hundred different situations, wanted to do something I never even dreamed was possible. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. I didn’t know how to process the wildly conflicting emotions raging through me. No one had ever done anything like this for me. I didn’t think I deserved it. Didn’t understand why anyone would want to adopt a fuckup like me.

  “If you’d be interested . . .” Tom stumbled over his words. Something he never did. “I’d like to start on the paperwork to adopt you officially.”

  Finally, I found my voice. “But why would you . . . I mean, I’m just another fucking homeless kid.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re much more than that, and Matty, you’ve got to know by now that I already think of you as my son.” He eased the envelope toward me, and I looked at it like it might burst into flames.

  “What would this mean?” My voice was small, quiet. His wasn’t.

  “It would mean you’d always have a place to call home. A roof over your head, food to eat, your own room.”

  My eyes snapped up from the envelope and met his. “My own room?”

  “Ah. Got your attention now, hmm?” He grinned at me before moving back to the hall. “I’ll show you.”

  It seemed to take a year to get down that narrow hallway. My heart hammering, he pushed open a door to the right, and stepped into the room. I lingered on the threshold, terrified, blown away, and caught somewhere between suspicion and relief.

  He looked nervous as he rubbed his big hand against the back of his neck and flicked on a light. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

  The smell of fresh paint hit me hard and fast, and I tentatively craned my neck into the room. It was small, but there was an open window that faced a line of trees that ran the side of Tom’s yard, letting light into the room. The walls had been painted dark blue, a big Harley-Davidson sign hanging on one wall, a tiny wooden desk with a black lamp in the corner.

  My eyes fell to the single bed with the blue-checked comforter, and I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

  “I know you like bikes.” He moved to the corner where a guitar rested against the wall. “And what kid doesn’t like music?”

  “You mean adult,” I managed, afraid to take that step into the room. I knew this was big. Maybe the biggest moment of my life to date. Somehow, as soon as I stepped foot into that room, everything I knew, and everything I had been told about what a disappointment I was would change.

  He grinned, lifted the guitar up, and placed it gently on the bed. “Not quite an adult, but you’re getting there.”

  Setting his hand on my shoulder, he waited, but I had nothing. “Got the guitar from a buddy of mine who used to be in a band back in the day. Said he’d show you how to play if you want.”

  I just stared at him in shock, and like he always did, like he always still does, he said the things I needed to hear. The message simple, always from the heart. “This is up to you, Matt. No matter what you decide, it’s not going to change how I feel about you. Now, there’ll be rules.” I narrowed my eyes, but he pressed on. “Curfew, keeping your room clean, helping around here, and staying away from people who make bad decisions. But you’ll always have a home, and I’ll always want what’s best for you.”

  I could feel something brewing behind my eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep it from happening, deciding to focus on the guitar on the bed. It was sleek and black, and it was something to ground me, to keep me focused so I didn’t lose my shit.

  Tom patted my shoulder and squeezed past me. “I’ll be in the garage.”

  I waited and listened to every single creak of the house as Tom moved through it. The whole time I lingered in the doorway, staring at that guitar, studying it, learning every curve and edge it had. It held me, it captivated me, and it calmed me at a time when my entire world had just been turned upside down.

  It was a promise, a potential opportunity in an otherwise fucked-up existence. I didn’t know it then, but outside of Tom—and eventually, many years later, the band—that guitar would become the only thing I could count on in my life.

  “You’ve upgraded the garage,” Tom notes, drawing me out of my memories. He moves to the chrome tool cabinet and inspects it as only he can.

  “Thought it was time.”

  “Thanks for the delivery last week, by the way. Nothing like restoring a vintage Harley to pass the time away.”

  I try to suppress a grin, but it’s hard. I haven’t found anything as satisfying as giving back to Tom. It’s the least I can do after everything he’s done for me. “I thought you might like that one. It had your name on it.”

  “Can’t wait to ride it.”

  “I’ll be right there with you.”

  He glances my way with a familiar slow smile. “I know. And I’m sorry for disappearing after the charity concert. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. There was an incident at the center. New kid taking a beating from the old-timers. You know how it goes.”

  I know all too well how it goes. I’ve been on both sides of that particular nightmare. “You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m glad you were able to make it to the show.”

  He slowly circles
the bike. “I don’t even know how to describe it. It was amazing to watch you up there.”

  “As long as you enjoyed it.”

  “I did. The group home also enjoyed another anonymous donation a couple of weeks back.” He gives me a knowing look. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now, would you?”

  “I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Matty . . .”

  “I could use some help on the intake manifold.” I focus on my latest bike rather than him. “It’s been giving me trouble. Make yourself useful, old man.”

  His big, warm hand rests on my shoulder. “You don’t have to give us such big donations all the time, you know. You don’t owe us anything.”

  I meet his steady gaze. “You taught me to give back. That’s what I’m doing. And I owe you everything. Case closed.”

  With a nod of agreement, we get to work.

  “Earth to Grasshopper!” I feel one of Sean’s drumsticks hitting my back.

  “That fucking hurt.” I bend over to pick the stick off the floor, firing it back at him. He ducks as it sails over his head.

  “Where’d you go there?” Kennedy stares at me like I have three heads.

  We’ve been rehearsing in Kennedy’s studio at his place in Bodega Bay on and off for the last few days, getting ready for the Australian leg of the tour.

  Unfortunately, I’ve zoned out. I’m distracted, my mind taking me back to the night I spent with Tess—the parts I can remember anyway. Slowly it’s becoming clearer, like the pieces of an erotic puzzle that shouldn’t fit together but somehow do.

  Still nothing from her on my FedEx delivery a few days ago. I should know better than to expect anything from anyone, but I would’ve thought it at least warranted a reaction of some kind.

  Maybe she has no sense of humor. Maybe she just had her fun and wants nothing more to do with me. Fuck knows it wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Sorry, man. I think I need coffee.”

  Cameron adjusts his guitar around his shoulder. “You mean another pot to go with the four you’ve already had. Rough night of it last night?”

  “Something like that,” I mumble. Setting my guitar on a nearby stand, I head to the drink table. Wildly changed from even six months ago, instead of alcohol the table is lined with energy drinks, a smoothie machine, and organic snacks brought in by our head of security, Tucker Pearson.

  We’ve all grown over the last few months. Losing Brodie Dixon, our tour manager, and almost losing Kennedy was a blow to us all. Seeing Cameron go through another round of rehab, and then spending time with Parker, has made us all take a step back and look at what we’re doing with our lives. A reset of priorities, if you will.

  “You said you didn’t fuck her.” Sean rounds his drum kit and gets in my face.

  I push the annoying Brit out of the way. “Not now,” I practically growl at him.

  “Fuck who?” Cam asks, his smirk firmly in place.

  “No one.”

  “Tess. He fucked her.” Sean always knows how to silence a room.

  “Jesus.” Kennedy lets out a sigh of frustration before leveling me a stern glance. “If you screw this up, so help me . . .”

  “Enough. All of you.” I slam the energy drink down on the table a little harder than I should. “I’m a grown man, not a child.”

  “Tess? Really, Matt? There were thousands of women there that night and you had to pick Tess?” Kennedy asks, his face disapproving.

  “You know what? I’m out of here.” I take the stairs two at time, needing some air.

  Sadly, alone time is a rare thing with this group. It doesn’t take long for Cameron to find me. “You’re a lot faster than you look.” Cameron’s voice drifts to me, and from my prime location on an otherwise empty stretch of beach, I scowl at him.

  He sinks down to the sand beside me as I take a much-needed drag from the cigarette. I know it’s a bad habit. I’ll try to break it, eventually.

  “You draw the short straw?” I ask, unimpressed by his sudden appearance. I knew it was coming. This is what we do. One of us is always pulling another back into the fold, keeping the peace. We’ve been through a lot together over the years, and that kind of comradery, well, it’s nothing short of a brotherhood.

  It took a long time for me to trust the guys, but after this long together, I know now that any one of them would take a bullet for me, and I’d do the same in a heartbeat. Coming from the place I did, that in and of itself is a bit of a miracle.

  Cam steals the cigarette from my fingers, inhaling slowly with a nod. “Must have either been one hell of a night or she’s one hell of a woman.”

  “Bit of both, I think.”

  “Hmm.” We both look out to the surf pounding against the shore. “Thought so. You typically love ’em and leave ’em. She’s different, then?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I could remember more of it.” I shake my head. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about it, because it’s a bit of a blur.”

  “The mystery of it all?”

  “Something like that,” I admit, pushing up from the sand.

  Cam joins me, tossing the cigarette down, and crushing it under his boot. “Well, maybe you should do something about it. I mean if she’s got you thinking about her, why the hell not see where it goes?”

  “I haven’t exactly had a whole lot of luck in this area,” I start as we head back down the beach.

  “Yeah, but you haven’t exactly tried now, have you?”

  “Let me see it!” There’s no escaping the excitement in Sean’s voice as Cameron and I step back into Kennedy’s living room.

  “You’re like a child,” Kennedy complains, trying to push Sean away from the counter.

  “I don’t want either one of you touching it. It could be anything. Lord knows some of your fans are mental.” Tucker’s voice of reason booms above them both. “And it’s not for either one of you.”

  “What the hell is going on now?” Cam asks as we amble our way to the kitchen.

  Kennedy glances over at me. “We good?” I give him a nod in reply, stepping up to the counter.

  “Grasshopper! It’s for you,” Sean announces as he tries unsuccessfully to steal the large courier box away from Tucker.

  “You order something?” Tucker asks, creating a physical barrier between us and the box on the counter.

  I shake my head, narrowing my eyes. “No. Nothing.”

  “Fuck,” Tucker mumbles, starting in on his inspection of the mystery package. “Just stay back a bit. It looks harmless, but you never know.”

  “Open it!” Sean bounces with excitement. He clearly needs a hobby.

  “Did you not get enough presents as a child?” Kennedy nudges Sean in the shoulder.

  “Return address is from What’s Your Dream.” Tucker glances over at me. “Did you ask them to send you anything?”

  “No, but—” Sean’s triumphant cheer interrupts me as he manages to swipe the box away from Tucker and tears it open.

  “Ha!” Sean tosses a handful of packing material to the floor, lifting out a sheet of paper and cracking up as he reads it to himself.

  “Oh, this is brilliant!” he shouts when his laughter subsides. Tucker snags the box back from him. “Gather ’round now, gents, and listen up.” A feeling of unease washes over me. I didn’t ask for the foundation to send me anything. There’s only one person this can be from.

  “Dearest Asshole,” Sean begins, unable to hide his smirk. He pauses before continuing, “Understanding that your time here is short, and you might not get a chance to restock, I thought I’d help you out. The enclosed should aid you in your continuing quest to fuck your way across the planet. Enjoy.”

  Tucker’s laugh fills the room as he tugs out a smaller box from the package, holding it up for us to see. A fucking case of condoms. Kennedy and Cam burst out laughing when Tucker opens the box, lifting out a strip of them, and dangling it in front of me.

&n
bsp; Sean grabs the strip from Tucker and turns it over, unable to stop laughing. “Is there something you want to tell us, Matty?” He gives a mock shake of his head. “You need extra-small condoms? Really?”

  I’m never going to live this down. Ever. There’s a lifetime of condom-related gag gifts in my future. Cameron plucks out another box of the damn things and waves it at me. “At least you know she’s thinking of you, even if it is in some extra-small way.”

  I’m barely able to hold back my growl as I collect the keys to my bike from the counter. I waste no time striding to the door. Clearly, Miss Baker and I need to have a serious discussion. “Aw, come on now, Grasshopper,” Sean starts. “Don’t go off half-cocked.”

  The door slamming behind me is the only thing drowning out their laughter.

  Tessa

  A light knock at my new office door surprises me; turning around, I smile to see April leaning against the doorframe. “Hey there, new executive type,” she teases with a grin. “Getting settled in?”

  “Yep. It’s nice to have a window of my own.” Sitting back from the box I was unloading on my desk, I sigh with satisfaction and look out toward the stately old building next door. I still haven’t come down from the high after getting my promotion.

  “It is indeed.” She walks over and sits in one of my chairs. “I thought I’d stop by before I left for the night. Ready for tomorrow?” Abby doesn’t know it yet, but she’s not accompanying us to San Diego tomorrow to work on another dream. Instead, her boyfriend, Kennedy Lane, is whisking her off on a surprise trip before he and the rest of his band resume their world tour. I frown for a second as I think about a certain arrogant bassist. He’ll be leaving then, too. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  Reaching over, I tap a file on my new desk. “Yep. I’m all up to speed on both dreams, in case we have a chance to meet with the Chargers, too.”