“Almost,” Kelly said, winking at Owen over her head.
“Excuse me,” Caitlyn said, giving Owen a pointed look he didn’t understand. “I need to use the bathroom.” She stared at him for a long moment before adding, “Upstairs.”
Owen took that to mean she had to go number two and didn’t want to smell up the main floor, but wasn’t sure why she was announcing her bathroom situation to everyone. She gave him another hard stare before blotting her hands dry on a towel and leaving the room with a frustrated growl.
“You’re supposed to go after her,” Kelly said.
Owen made a face of disgust. “No thanks. What she does in that bathroom is her business.”
“Trust me. You need to go after her.”
Owen shrugged, but before he could hang out with Caitlyn in the upstairs bathroom, his phone rang. He was smiling in relief as he answered. “Hey, Mom, we just fin—”
Her broken sob cut him off. “Owey?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t say it,” she said. “Not on the phone.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his heart hammering so hard, he could scarcely breathe.
He raced from the house, not bothering to close the front door. He jumped his front steps and sprinted the block to his mother’s house, vaguely aware of Kelly racing after him and calling, “Owen, what is it?”
He opened his parents’ front gate—none of the dogs were in the yard to greet him—and hurried to the front door. From the porch, he could hear his mother sobbing inside. Knocking loudly, he yelled for her before trying the handle and finding the door unlocked. He followed the sounds of her crying to the living room and found her in a heap on the floor, fiercely hugging one of her rescue dogs while the others either watched or licked the tears off her face.
“Mom!” He knelt in front of her and took her hands. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
The pain in her eyes when she lifted her head wasn’t the physical sort. It was of the soul-crushing variety.
“Ch-Chad.”
Owen shook his head. Whatever she was about to tell him about his brother, he wasn’t prepared to believe a word of it.
“His helicopter went down.”
Owen shook his head harder. No. He was coming home soon. That was what she’d meant to tell him. Chad was coming home.
“Monday. It happened Monday, and they didn’t bother to tell us until now!”
“Is he—” Owen couldn’t actually say the word dead, because Chad’s death was too unreal to consider.
“Alive,” she gasped. “In a hospital in Germany.”
Owen released a sigh of relief. Alive. They could handle anything but dead. He couldn’t handle dead.
“They’re not sure he’s going to make it.”
“That bad?” he heard himself say over the growing buzz in his ears.
She nodded. “His CO said he was the only survivor. The only survivor.”
He pulled her into his arms, her little three-legged dog squirming in protest between them. “He’s going to make it.”
“They said not to get our hopes up,” she gasped out between sobs.
Too bad. Owen’s hopes were sky high.
“He’s going to make it,” Owen repeated, squeezing tighter.
Footsteps stopped behind him, and he looked up to see Kelly standing there with Lindsey behind him. Kelly’s concerned face blurred beyond the sudden flood of tears in his eyes.
“Is it Chad?” Kelly asked.
Owen couldn’t answer him. He turned his face into his mother’s neck, his mind racing, his heart aching, his soul completely empty. “He’s going to make it.”
That was all that mattered to Owen. The shit with his band and with Lindsey—none of it mattered. Getting Chad home alive was all that he cared about.
“Can we go to Germany and see him?” Owen asked.
“Once he’s stable they’ll transfer him to a hospital stateside. I should have prayed harder,” Mom said.
Owen had a ritual where he prayed for Chad’s safe return, so that couldn’t be why his helicopter had crashed. Owen always prayed hard. Every night he prayed for Chad.
Oh shit. Owen’s heart turned to ice in his chest. “Did you say it happened Monday?”
“That’s why he never called. He was supposed to call.”
And that had been the evening Owen had experienced an unshakable feeling of dread. He’d thought it was because Adam had gone missing and Jacob had destroyed the band, but he knew now that was when Chad had been injured, when he’d been fighting to live. And Owen had been so caught up in his own much smaller tragedies that he hadn’t prayed for him that night. He hadn’t prayed.
“My brave, brave boy,” Mom whimpered. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
The back door banged shut, and Dad called into the house, “Joan? Where are you?”
“James!” She didn’t get another word out as sobs racked her body. Apparently she’d been holding herself together the best she could for Owen’s benefit.
Dad ran in, face drawn, hands clenched, his gaze searching the room. “Did the officer leave?”
“What officer?” Owen asked.
“The death squad officer!”
Owen didn’t know if there was such a thing as a death squad officer, but Dad’s meaning was clear. When a soldier was killed in action, a high-ranking uniformed officer delivered the news in person.
“He’s not dead,” Owen said. And he would not allow himself to even consider the possibility.
Dad’s sturdy shoulders sagged, and he covered his face with one hand before bending to scoop Mom against him with the other. “Why didn’t you tell me that on the phone? I thought—I thought we’d lost him.”
“W-wounded,” Mom said, her tears flowing nonstop. “Terribly.”
Owen couldn’t listen to her tell his father the mortal danger Chad still faced. His heart wouldn’t survive a repeat of those words. He turned and rushed for the door, needing a moment or ten alone so he could collect his thoughts.
This could not be happening.
Lindsey caught his arm as he brushed past. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Fix my brother,” he snapped. “Can you do that?”
She ducked her head and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” as he pulled free and fled to the front porch, where he stopped short before he careened into Kelly’s back. Kelly was staring out across the front yard, a hand on either hip.
He turned. Had the tears swimming in Kelly’s eyes not chosen that moment to course down his cheeks, Owen might not have shattered. He covered his mouth with one hand to choke back a sob and found himself crushed in a tight embrace. Kelly’s hand cupped the back of Owen’s head as he held him close. Afraid he’d crumple to the porch, Owen wrapped his arms around Kelly and held on to the solid strength he hadn’t realized he needed from his friend.
Agony choked him until it burst from him in a sob.
“He’ll be all right,” Kelly whispered. “You have to believe he’ll be all right.”
Owen did believe that. He believed it so much that he mentally promised God everything he could think of to make the wish a reality.
When at last Owen was able to shove his grief into the darkest pit of his soul, he lifted his head and got lost in Kelly’s turbulent gaze. Kelly didn’t drop his arms, didn’t release Owen from his embrace, instead he leaned close—closer still—until his face blurred. Kelly’s lips brushed Owen’s, so feather-light that Owen convinced himself he was imagining his kiss.
What?
Kelly groaned, his lips parting as he deepened his claim on Owen’s mouth.
For a moment, the darkness clouding Owen’s heart dissipated. Every worry vanished. The world outside Kellen’s kiss didn’t exist. Hunger, passion, and a forbidden pleasure centered on Owen’s mouth and spread down his throat and into his chest, forming a shield of trust around his heart. The deep-rooted connection that had always existed between them manifested into phys
ical form. The beauty of it stole Owen’s every thought for one glorious moment.
But then Kelly pulled away, and the magic shattered.
Kelly searched Owen’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
Owen might have understood Kellen’s apology if he hadn’t just been kissed into emotional oblivion, but this was no joke. He could see a change in the way Kelly looked at him, with feelings just realized. Painful, inappropriate feelings.
Owen was shaking.
How did Kelly expect him to react? What did he expect him to say? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to do or say anything.
“Owen,” Kelly said, curving his fingers into Owen’s face and leaning closer. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Owen asked, confusion hammering at his reeling mind. “For Chad? For doing . . . doing that to me?”
“I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’m also not sorry I enjoyed it or that you enjoyed it.”
What? He hadn’t enjoyed it. He’d just . . . He’d needed to feel a deep emotional bond with someone and Caitlyn was back at his place taking a dump.
Owen shook his head at the lie he was trying to pass over on himself. What he really wished was that Kelly was still kissing him, had never stopped kissing him. While their lips had been pressed together, Owen had felt none of the fear or confusion or anxiety that he felt now. He’d only felt right.
This could not be happening.
Kelly pressed his forehead against Owen’s and closed his eyes. Peace stole over Owen for an instant, and then more confusing thoughts bombarded him. What had caused this sudden change between them? The band breaking up? Chad’s horrible situation? Owen’s reaction to it? Something that had happened during Kelly’s weekend with Dawn? What? Why was Kelly acting like this was totally normal? There was nothing normal about this. Nothing!
“I don’t understand,” Owen mumbled.
“I am beyond sorry about Chad.”
Of course he was. Chad was an older brother to both of them—Owen’s by blood, Kelly’s by circumstance.
“But I’m mostly sorry that I’ve been blind for so long.”
What?
“I want you, Owen.”
Owen stiffened and backed away. Kelly wanted him. Want, not love. What did that mean? He shook his head. What the hell did Kelly mean?
“Owen?”
Owen waved him off, unable to meet his eyes. “This cannot be happening.”
He stumbled backwards down the steps and ran so hard that he was unable to slow his momentum before he slammed into the gate. He fumbled with the latch and threw the gate open before sprinting toward home. He needed to run from it all. From his brother’s injury, from the responsibility of Lindsey and the baby, from the end of his career and aspirations, even from Kelly—the one person he’d counted on his entire adult life.
He ran to the only sane thing, the only good thing in his world. He ran to Caitlyn.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Like Owen, you’re probably wondering what the hell is going on with Kellen? You’ll find out all about his situation in the next book in the series, Treasure Me.
I think most readers of this series have figured out by now that One Night with Sole Regret is a serial series, but I still get hate mail about cliffhangers and dangling plots and why it takes so long to write these books, so I’m going to clarify a few things here for everyone.
The Sole Regret series has three arcs, and each of the five band members gets a book in each arc. The first arc (books 1-5) are the “meet and sparks fly” collection, the second arc (books 6-10) are the “tons of crazy shit is happening now” collection, and the third and final arc (books 11-15) are the “oh, so that’s how this crazy shit is resolved” collection. So we have one more book in the “tons of crazy shit is happening now” collection, before we reach all the resolutions you’re craving in books 11-15.
I did not think this series would take so long to write. When I started, I thought (incorrectly) that each book would be short and sweet like Try Me. The newer books are almost three times longer than that first book and I have a LOT LOT more details to keep track of than at the beginning, so the newer books are going to take a LOT LOT longer to write. I thought (incorrectly) that juggling three series would be a piece of cake, but my brain has to reset and get back up to speed on each series as I go from writing a Sinners book to an Exodus End book to a Sole Regret book and repeat, repeat, repeat. By the time I’ve reset my brain and gotten back into the flow of a different series, weeks and sometimes months have passed without writing much at all. I’ve also had a shit-tacular year and spent most of it either in the hospital at my Mom’s bedside or after she was finally off life-support (and lived), taking her to various appointments for the lung cancer they found while fixing her heart. So that’s another reason the books are “taking so long”. I can’t control my Mom’s health issues, and I will still be there for her if she takes another turn for the worse, but I can control which books I write and when. So I’ve recently decided to stick with the Sole Regret series until it’s finished, before switching to Exodus End and then the remaining Sinners novellas. At least, that’s my plan right now. Maybe I’m wrong and it won’t help me keep details in my head and write faster if I just focus on one series at a time, but I think it will help immensely. And I think (but won’t promise) that I’ll be able to publish a Sole Regret book every two to three months once I get into the swing of things. This all hinges on 2017 being a less shit-tacular year than 2016 was. Fuck you, 2016. I hope you choke.
So thanks for your patience, dear readers. I do love this series and these characters and all the crazy shit that is happening now, and I can’t wait until it’s all resolved and all the members of Sole Regret are living their happily ever afters. We will get there hopefully sooner than you think. Hang in there, Sole Regret fans. We’re now on the downslide of this crazy roller coaster ride.
While I’m here, I’d also like to thank my amazing editor, Beth Hill, my sensational beta reader/book-signing assistant, Cyndi McGowen, and my little group of rockin’ roadies: Jenna, Traci, Maureen, Annette and Karen. I appreciate all you do for me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Combining her love for romantic fiction and rock 'n roll, Olivia Cunning writes erotic romance centered around rock musicians. Raised on hard rock music from the cradle, she attended her first Styx concert at age six and fell instantly in love with live music. She's been known to travel over a thousand miles just to see a favorite band in concert. As a teen, she discovered her second love, romantic fiction—first, voraciously reading steamy romance novels and then penning her own. Growing up as the daughter of a career soldier, she's lived all over the United States and overseas. She currently lives in Illinois. To learn more about Olivia and her books, please visit www.oliviacunning.com.
Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret Book 9) Page 22
