Remorse lifted his eyes to meet mine.
Grey.
Sad.
Scared.
Shame leeched into his tone. “That’s what I don’t get, Baz. Why would you do that? Why would you give up everything for a stupid mistake I made? Since day one, all of this has been my fault.”
He was wrong.
It was mine.
“I’d give up everything because I love you, Austin. Because you’re good and you deserve a good life. You gotta get that.”
“And what about you?”
Soft, unsatisfied laughter pushed between my pursed lips, and I waved my hand around his room. “Have everything I need, Austin.”
But somehow it was no longer enough.
He shook his head. “What about that chick back in Savannah?”
Shea.
Shea.
Shea.
My chest tightened painfully.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t dig that,” he continued, a sly smile working its way onto his mouth, before that smile turned knowing. “I saw you, Baz…I saw that you were happy. You liked her.”
Yeah. I fucking did.
I forced a smile. “Believe me, she’s better off without me.”
Energy vibrated, and that feeling came over me that I’d thrived on for so many years, like a compulsion that drew me forward, swallowing me whole.
Zee stepped out ahead of us, sticks in one hand lifted over his head.
Shouting.
Screams.
That energy flared.
Ash and Lyrik strode out ahead, and I trailed behind them as screams escalated to a riot, the surge of the crowd as they pushed forward to get closer to the stage. Blinding lights shone from above, jutting through the dark, dusky haze that lifted in swells of smoke from the stage floor. Spotlights and colored strobes burst against my eyes, and I grabbed my guitar from the stand, slid the strap over my head.
“How’s it going tonight?” I asked into the mic as I played a single chord. More screams. “Heard some of you might’ve been worried we dipped out on you all.” I let a smirk take hold of my face as I wove into the introduction of our first song. “Not going anywhere.”
A furor rippled through the rowdy crowd, and the guys and I drove into our first song. That song flowed into the second, the aggressive strains of our music causing me to feel like I’d been welcomed home, like I’d been lifted to a different plane. Like I became someone else when I poured all I had into my songs. Gave it all to those who ate it up. That energy alive as the crowd went completely wild at the foot of the stage.
Heavy heat permeated the dank music theater.
It should have been suffocating.
But it was always on stage where I could breathe.
On stage where I belonged.
On stage where I was free.
Without the heavy burdens of this life.
But tonight thoughts of Shea and my baby brother had followed me here, and all of that got mixed up in this. It made me feel off-balance.
Lost in this disorganized contentment.
Pulses of energy crashed into my body on a steady stream of waves.
Adrenaline pitched through my veins, feeding the fans, in turn them feeding me.
I dove into the guitar riff with all the pent-up frustration locked deep inside.
Closer to the mic. Belted out the lyrics.
Bled them, really. Because they were made of me.
I can’t touch time
There’s no remedy for this space
How long will you hold me under?
Just end it now
End me now
Everyone screamed, and a frenzy of voices sang out the words in a chaotic chorus.
And I felt so alive.
And so completely ruined.
Because I couldn’t reconcile this, this life I knew, the one we’d strived to attain, created through sweat and blood and unshed tears—through death—with the one my heart told me I wanted.
Lifting my shirt, I wiped the sweat from my face, my body still buzzing and my heart running wild as I headed backstage after the three-song encore.
Ash clapped me on the back as he rushed by, spinning on his heel to look back at me with a huge-ass grin on his face. “Fucking awesome show. Didn’t know how bad I was missing it until I got back on that stage.”
I raised my chin to him. “Yeah, man. Great show.”
He gave me a salute as he spun around again, disappearing into the large reception room with the two attached dressing rooms.
Anthony grabbed my attention from where he was waiting just off stage, gave me a quick hug that was nothing more than a couple quick slaps to my back. “You guys nailed it tonight. Fans were nuts. They needed this.”
“It was kind of insane out there,” I agreed. “Felt good.”
And it did, and I had no clue how to make sense of the mixed emotions, like I was being ripped in two, drawn in separate directions.
Anthony stepped back, expression serious. “Karl Fitzgerald is in the office. He’d like a word.”
“All right,” I agreed on a clipped nod, my nerves jumping, knowing this could be absolutely nothing, or could forever change the direction of our lives. The guy basically held the future of Sunder in the palm of his grubby hand.
Ripping off my sweaty shirt, I snagged the clean one Anthony was offering and threw it over my head.
We headed in the direction of the office, passed by Zee who’d gotten cornered by a group of kids that couldn’t have been older than fourteen, the guy all smiles, true attention turned on them as he scrawled out his autograph on anything they shoved at him and gladly answered their questions. Lyrik strolled right on by, all casual but with that never-ceasing threat that seemed to radiate off him, everyone scrambling out of his way. He sent me a questioning eye as I walked along with Anthony. I gave him a lilt of my head, a silent later, and he returned the same before he followed Ash’s lead and disappeared into the reception room.
Anthony led me into the office. Karl Fitzgerald stood from the old, heavy brown leather rocker office chair, still wearing a suit, always looking completely out of place. “Sebastian Stone,” he said, his voice tight and his hand curt.
I shook it. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
Actually, I despised the asshole, but I figured that kind of greeting wouldn’t go over so well.
Apparently he didn’t feel the need to fill the space with idle pleasantries, either. “Anthony has filled me in a little on what’s going on with your case. He’s assured me he’s doing everything to ensure this mess is settled out of court.”
I resisted the urge to spit out something sarcastic, because after the disaster this afternoon, I was willing to make bets that was not going to happen. But Anthony seemed confident, was standing behind me, so I had to stand behind him. Like family ought, Anthony always had my back.
“We’re doing everything we can to make sure that happens,” I conceded.
“Good. Then we won’t regret that Mylton Records has chosen to keep Sunder under its wing and at this point isn’t seeking breech of contract. You make sure you get this settled quickly and keep yourself out of jail. We’ll get you back out on the road as soon as we’re certain an incarceration won’t interfere with a tour. We won’t be losing money if another is canceled.”
My nod was short because he wasn’t asking me for an answer. This visit was a warning. Sunder was sitting belly up at the last chance saloon. Sad thing was, I had to be grateful for what he clearly considered generosity on his part.
“It seems we have an understanding then.” He straightened his tie and was gone, and Anthony was grinning, and I was standing there having no idea how I really felt.
“This is good news, Baz,” Anthony said, as if he needed to convince me.
“I know.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m going to grab my stuff…head home.”
With a speculative eyebrow raised at my subdued response, Anthony sim
ply said, “All right. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
I left the office and went straight to the dressing rooms. Lyrik was on the couch, nursing at a beer while two girls crawled all over him, one on her knees between his rubbing greedy hands up and down his thighs, the other on the couch beside him, fingers preparing to get friendly as she teased under his shirt.
Fucking awesome.
Dude was always such a dog.
I shook my head, grabbed my bag from the floor, and stuffed the couple things I needed inside, doing my best not to be annoyed when I heard the telltale sounds of Ash going at it with some chick in one of the inner dressing rooms.
“So what was that about?” Lyrik asked, referring to the meeting Anthony had whisked me away to.
“Karl Fitzgerald.”
Lyrik’s dark eyes got intense. “And to what did you owe the pleasure?”
“They’re keeping us. Want us back on the road as soon as I clean up some of my shit here.”
Staring over at me, he sat silently while he seemed to absorb it, like he was rearranging the fate he’d already accepted and was making it something new. Then he just gave a quick nod. “Thank fuck.”
“Thank fuck,” I mumbled around an exhaled breath, wondering why there wasn’t a whole lot of joy surrounding it.
“You stickin’ around tonight?” Lyrik asked, still ignoring the chick who was working on undoing his fly. “We’re heading over to Kie’s. Looks like you could use a little something to help you unwind.”
Fucker had the nerve to smirk at me.
I just shook my head. “Nah, man. Austin’s hanging back at the house. I’m going to head home.”
The bitch at his side pouted. “You sure you don’t want to join in?”
Uh…no, I definitely did not want to join in. Normally after a show, residual energy flowed through me—this strange high filling me with this antsy bliss—and I was usually dying to get my dick wet. And hell, I was. But the last thing I needed was to get anywhere near Lyrik’s lanky ass. Getting naked with another dude involved was not ever gonna be my thing.
And the only woman I wanted was Shea.
Goddamn, I’d let that girl take up residence right under my skin.
“You sure you don’t want to head over?” This time Lyrik’s question was concerned because the asshole knew it, too.
“Nope. I’m good.”
Fucking lie, but if it was one I had to tell to make it through this, then I would.
“Give me a buzz if you change your mind.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Yep.”
His words tripped me up as I pitched open the door. “Gonna have to figure this shit out. You can’t go on pretending like everything is just fine and finally coming together for you when it’s not. Know you, man.”
Pretending.
Pretending.
Pretending.
I didn’t honor him with an answer, just let the door slam shut behind me.
I wove through the mass congregating backstage, stopped a couple of times to sign some autographs, faked my way through some smiles for the overanxious girls who wanted pics with me.
“We love you, Sebastian!”
“Sebastian Stone, I love you!”
“Oh my god, I am so in love with you.”
All these girls who didn’t know me, feeding me all that bullshit they believed, like whatever they felt could possibly be real.
I love you. Shea’s voice washed through me on a haunted memory, soft and sweet and said as if it were a plea. As if she knew it was going to be rejected. Shunned when it was real, real, real.
Remorse nearly overwhelmed me.
Why did she have to be real? Be different? Love me when I didn’t have the right to love her back?
I escaped out into the night, hitting the back lot where I hopped in my truck, both my car and bike still back in Savannah waiting to be shipped here in California since we’d packed up and left so fast.
City lights blinked past, my mind straying where it shouldn’t as I wound back up the hill toward my house, regret chasing me the whole way home.
I found Austin in one of the big recliner chairs in the theater room, and I plopped down beside him, pretended like everything was fine—better than fine—and watched a movie with my baby brother that was already half spent, praying to God that all of this was worth it.
When the movie finished up, rolling through the credits and switching back to the main menu page, Austin stretched. “Good show tonight?”
“Yeah, it was good.”
At least that much was honest.
My brow lifted as I looked across at him seriously. “Fitzgerald came by. We get to keep the label.”
I knew it’d been eating at Austin since he found out the reason we got sent to Savannah in the first place.
Relief blew across his face, a smile to match. And if that didn’t push at my ribs, nudging at my hope. “That’s good, right?” he asked.
“It’s really good, Austin. Things are good,” I promised.
“Awesome.” He stood from the recliner and pushed a fist out in front of him. “Going to call it a night.”
I bumped him back. “All right. See you in the morning, little brother.”
His smile turned shy, like a little boy who just needed the affirmation. “Night, Baz.”
He left and I sat in the dark against the stagnant glow of the screen for who knows how long. Finally I gave in and dug my phone from my pocket, wondering why I chose to torture myself. But God, knowing it was there was too much of a temptation to ignore. I clicked into my pictures, scrolled through to the one I wanted. Shea’s back was pressed up tight to my chest, those super soft waves all bunched up in my face as she rested her head on my shoulder, her smile sweet and open and telling, my arm holding her close, my phone in my other hand while I snapped the picture of us. Afterward, we’d started making a bunch of goofy faces into the camera, Shea bursting into a fit of laughter. God, I loved that sound.
This was one of those impulsive, normal things I’d done with Shea, taking pictures of us like this girl somehow could belong to me. But this was the only kind of forever I was going to have with her.
Gently, I ran my thumb across the screen, touching that gorgeous face, wishing that forever was real.
Dark. Light. Heavy. Soft.
Trouble.
Trouble.
Trouble.
A smile pulled at just one side of my mouth—sad and adoring—and with every part of me I hoped she was hating me so she wasn’t suffering like I was, so she wasn’t sitting there missing me the same way I was missing her.
“ONE…TWO…THREE…GO!”
Kallie squealed and took off running. I lumbered along behind her, pretending I couldn’t keep up, right at her heels as I chased her through the soft grass in our backyard. She was barefoot, that wild mane of blonde curls flying behind her. A belly full of giggles released into the air as she threw her head back and laughed.
She raised both her hands in the air when she crossed the finish line, which was nothing more than a hose stretched out over the lawn. “I win, Momma! I win!”
She danced around in delightful four-year-old celebration.
From behind, I tackled her, my movements gentle—protective—filled with every ounce of love I held for her as I tumbled with her to the ground.
Nothing ever felt more right than holding my daughter in the safety of my arms.
“No fair,” I teased, finding the strength from inside myself to smile down at her adorable face when she grinned up at me, a row of perfect tiny teeth exposed. I ran my knuckle down her chubby cheek. “You’re way too fast for me.”
She giggled more and lifted her shoulders the way she always did, scrunching up her cute little nose. “You’re way, way fast, too, Momma.”
God, how much did I love this child? My heart swam full, overflowing with devotion. Though I couldn’t stop the way each of those emotions felt heavy, soaked and sodden by those ot
her bits that had come alive with him, struck down before they ever had a chance live.
I kissed her forehead. “It’s getting late. Mommy needs to get ready for work.”
“Oh man,” she pouted, then jumped up in the same second that her sweet brown eyes filled with excitement, as if she’d been struck with a sudden realization. She tugged at my hand to help me to stand, jumping around at the same time. “Auntie April said I get to help her make s’ghetti tonight! It’s my favorite.” She accentuated the word in a relish of country flare.
My mouth dropped open in mock offense. “What? You’re having spaghetti for dinner without me? Now that really is no fair.”
Pulling impatiently at my hand, she ran ahead of me up the three steps onto the whitewashed back porch, through the large French doors leading into the family room, and down the short hall that made a T at the formal living room and the door to the kitchen. She prattled the entire way. “Don’t worry, Momma, I’ll make so, so, so much and then I’ll put it in your special bowl and put your name on it in the fridge, then you can eat it all gone when you get home.”
Kallie swung the kitchen door open, grinning back at me as she ran inside.
“You better! You know how starving I am when I get home from work.”
April was at the island butcher block, chopping tomatoes and onions, swaying to the country song playing on the little radio on the counter. Her grin was wide when she caught onto our conversation. “That is if this little one doesn’t eat it all first. She’s been eating like a monster lately.”
Kallie giggled and held her chubby belly. “I not a monster!”
“Are you sure?” April teased her. “It sure seems like you might have turned into a monster to me. I think you just might eat the whole house.”
“No way! It’s just ’cause I’m getting so, so big. I’m gonna be five, you know.”
Affectionate laughter rippled from April, and she smiled across at me, before she directed her attention right back to Kallie. “Why don’t you run upstairs and wash your hands and then you can help me get dinner started. Deal?”
“Deal!”
A Stone in the Sea Page 21
