Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)

by A. L. Jackson

  The SUV turned left into a driveway tucked away near the top. It led to a massive two-story house sheltered by soaring trees and lush gardens.

  We stopped on the cobblestone drive in front of the expansive double doors, the stucco of the exterior walls warm and welcoming. This was where this hard, threatening man sought reprieve from the hustle of his glittering lifestyle within the city below. It was a world apart from the place I expected.

  For all of them, really.

  I guess the outside could truly be misleading.

  Lyrik nudged his nose at my ear. “We’re home.”

  “Favorite grade in school?”

  “Um…” Memories thumbed through my mind like snapshots in an album. It didn’t take me long to land on the correct one. “Sixth.”

  “Why?” Lyrik asked, stealing a glance at me before he looked back to the road.

  Redness swept my cheeks.

  Shit.

  Now I was blushing? Lyrik really had busted down all the barriers.

  “Because that was my first year of middle school. They had a photography club that met twice a week after school. I could barely sit still during class on those days, I was so anxious to get in that darkroom where I could develop the pictures I’d taken that week.”

  At a red light, he brought his big, rumbling truck to a stop, one he’d left waiting for him in L.A.

  Reaching across the middle console, he grabbed my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “It’s always been your dream, yeah? Pictures?”

  Joy filtered through me like a soft breeze. “Yeah…at least since I understood what dreams were.”

  I turned the question on him. “What was yours?”

  He’d returned to gripping the steering wheel, those tattooed hands wrapped around the leather, the words stamped on his knuckles bold against the other swirling designs.

  Sing my soul.

  And it was my soul that sang when a lock of that black hair flopped to the side as he gazed across at me, that menacing, beautiful boy looking so powerful behind the wheel of his truck, before he pressed on the gas when the light turned green.

  Damn, he was doing crazy things to me.

  Crazy, lovely, beautiful things.

  By the way he looked at me, there was no question both of us were on uneven ground.

  Walking a rope that was tight. High and harrowing.

  While our feet felt agile enough to take us at a sprint.

  “Ninth grade.” He quirked a brow. Those red lips spread like seduction. “Finally got the girl.”

  A twinge of possessiveness hit me, and his grin only widened as it turned teasing and coy. “Been packing her around with me ever since. My constant companion. She comes with me to every city, is at my side through every show. She’s getting a little old and worn, but I love her all the same.”

  His meaning dawned on me. With playful laughter, I smacked his arm. “Are you trying to make me jealous of your guitar?”

  His eyes widened. “Did it work?”

  “Maybe…she does seem to be your favorite.”

  “That she is.”

  “Who got her for you?” I asked.

  His smile softened. “My mom. My fourteenth birthday. I’d worked all summer saving up for it, but I didn’t come close to making a dent. Turned out she’d been picking up extra shifts all along so she could give it to me for my birthday.”

  “She didn’t tell you what she was doing?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. She wanted to see me work for it. For it to mean something when I finally had it. She always wanted me to understand the best things take effort.”

  “Did it? Mean something?”

  I already knew the answer. But I wanted to hear him say it. For him to let me in a little further.

  His spirit dimmed, and he shifted in discomfort. “It meant everything until it cost me everything.”

  In confusion, my brows drew together. “I don’t get it, Lyrik. It’s like everything is wrapped up in your band. The guys are your family, and then in the next breath, it seems like you view it as the greatest burden. Does it not make you happy?”

  A sigh filtered from his nose. “I don’t know, Blue. It does. We all worked so damned hard for it, and being on stage…writing songs and having people sing them back to you like they get what you were trying to say? There’s something indescribable about that moment, when you catch someone’s expression while they’re mouthing the words in the crowd. And you think for a fleeting moment they get it. That they’re feeling the exact same thing you felt when you wrote it. Feeling like it just might make a difference. But everything comes with a cost.”

  “And you regret paying it?” I hedged, digging in deeper, knowing I was traversing dangerous ground. But God, I wanted to know. I needed to understand if I stood any chance of taking some of it away.

  He raked an uneasy hand through his hair, the words choked, barely making their way free. “Wasn’t really left with much of a choice.”

  Chaos whipped through me with his admission.

  His.

  Mine.

  Our storms gaining speed. Building and intensifying and baring down. Their paths set on a collision course.

  I watched the thick roll of his throat as he swallowed hard, his attention trained on the road. “It was all the choices I made leading up to it that stole it. What ruined it. Warned you I did, Blue. I always take the little bits of good I’m given and wreck them. Don’t know anything else.”

  His confession trembled with vehemence. It left me unsure if he’d intended the words for me.

  Tentatively, I reached out and touched his arm. “Your songs…they made a difference to me.”

  You make a difference to me.

  I wished I were brave enough to say it.

  Brave.

  I wanted to be.

  He looked at me, that gorgeous face stricken with pain. “Where’re you from, Blue?”

  My entire being flinched, and slowly I shook my head. “Not here.”

  “Think I already figured that out.”

  He was the first person since I’d run who’d sought me out. Searching to find the girl buried beneath the rubble—those tumbled stones covered in brash and hard and bitch.

  “Tucson,” I finally admitted toward my lap. So low I was sure there was no chance he could hear.

  “Arizona,” he responded softly. Obviously mostly for confirmation, because he was nodding slowly, as if he were trying to compartmentalize what I was telling him. Committing it to his reality.

  He cut those penetrating eyes toward me. “Why hide?”

  For a second, I squeezed mine shut, trying to make sense of things. Finally, I looked back at him, at his profile, at the hard, defined curve of his jaw to the soft pout of his mouth. “What are we doing, Lyrik?”

  “Talking,” he said, but from the way he blanched, he clearly knew I was asking more.

  Maybe it was simply because Lyrik was driving us toward his childhood home that reminded him we really didn’t know all that much about each other. Both of us were ignorant of the tiny, inconsequential details of the other’s lives that added together to become something significant.

  The foundations of who we were.

  I guessed it was the sum of them, the huge consequence the decisions we had made along the way, that somehow drove the biggest wedge between us. All of it was held back, yet building from below, like magma compressed by a million years of pressure.

  Waiting to erupt.

  Humorless laughter rolled from him. “You know, sometimes I look at you, and I get this feeling…right here…”

  Twice, he knocked the knuckles of his fist at the center of his chest. “Like I know you better than anyone. Like you know me better than anyone. And fuck, Blue…I fucking like the way that feels.”

  His voice dropped into a guilty whisper. “And I want more of it. To know you better.” Warily, he turned my way. “And that’s what scares me most.”

  At another stoplight, I
met the intensity of his gaze. I knew in that moment, this untouchable boy was the most vulnerable he’d ever been. Splayed open wide. For the briefest flash of a second, everything exposed to be seen. As if he were pleading for a reprieve from his demons. For a real chance to be touched.

  “I hid because when I ran, I ran for my life.” My words cracked. “And I never believed in all that time it was safe to turn around.”

  Faster than I could process, his big hand was on the back of my head, his thumb running along my jaw. “I’ll keep you safe, Blue. No one’s gonna hurt you. Not ever again.”

  We stared at each other, both of us prisoners to whatever was happening around us. Binding us. We jumped with the blare of the horn coming from behind.

  Lyrik jerked his hand away and accelerated.

  Silence filled the cab, restless and agitated.

  We both knew he’d crossed an invisible line. I’ll keep you safe, Blue. No one’s gonna hurt you. Not ever again.

  I stared out the window at the neighborhoods we passed. The homes had become smaller, interspersed by apartment buildings that appeared a bit rundown as we drew closer to Long Beach.

  Lyrik’s wistful sigh broke the tension. “Man, do these streets bring back memories. Me and all the guys, nothing more than punks running them, dreaming big. None of us could wait to get out of this place. Thought the world had so much more to offer us. Funny how heading back always feels like coming home.”

  Looking over at him, I tried to picture him as a boy. “I bet you caused all sorts of trouble.”

  He laughed. “Always. Wouldn’t expect anything less from me, would you?”

  “Never.” I said it like saying otherwise would be an offense.

  He sighed again. This time heavier. “Learned so much on these streets. About life and who I wanted to be. It’s where I fucked it all up, too.”

  He turned the truck down a narrow street lined with tiny houses of every color. Many of them appeared to have been refurbished. Flipped. Surely stamped with a pretty price tag with the draw of the beaches nearby.

  Others were worn and faded, run down with years of neglect.

  He pointed to a light blue house. “That was Ash’s place before his parents moved back to Ohio. Spent most of our teenage years in his garage. Writing songs. Getting high. Living the life while we dreamed of making ours. Seemed so easy back then.”

  I wondered when and how it’d gotten out of control.

  I didn’t pretend not to know the guys were rough.

  Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.

  That was the one catchphrase synonymous with their name. And it wasn’t just rumor. There was no hiding the history of arrests, of overdoses, and the death of their drummer.

  But Lyrik kept it all so close to the vest. Isolated and concealed.

  About a quarter mile down the road, Lyrik pulled up to the curb in front of a small pink house with white eaves. A tidy lawn stretched between the house and road, and two sprawling trees shaded the front.

  A soft smile tugged at my mouth.

  This house seemed somewhere between re-fabbed and rundown.

  Lived in and loved.

  “This is it,” Lyrik said as he killed the engine.

  Nerves tightened my stomach.

  “Are you sure this isn’t weird?” I couldn’t help but go back to the same question I’d asked early this morning.

  Funny, that seemed like an age ago.

  “Nah…they’re good people. You’ll love them.”

  I nodded and pulled the door handle, just as the front door flew open and a little girl who had to be about Kallie’s age came dashing out.

  Brown hair in pigtails.

  Smile a mile wide.

  This time it was my heart’s turn to tighten.

  Lyrik was already rounding the front of the truck, going straight for her. She bolted toward him. Scooping her up under the arms, he tossed her into the air. She squealed, her sweet voice filling the air. “Uncle ’Lik,” she cried as she scrambled to lock her arms around his neck.

  “There’s my girl,” he said, kissing her cheek, nuzzling the side of her face, so at ease with this child it took my breath away. “I’ve been missing you like crazy, Penny Pie.”

  “I been missin’ you, too.”

  Feeling out of sorts, I quietly latched my door shut behind me as I stepped onto the sidewalk, trying not to draw any attention to myself.

  “Who’s dat?” she asked.

  Turning my direction, Lyrik hooked the little girl on his hip. “That there is my Blue.”

  My Blue.

  Oh God.

  He really was trying to wreck me.

  “Bwue? That’s a funny name.”

  “Not as funny as Penny.” He tapped her nose.

  She howled with laughter, squirming all over the place as he tickled her.

  Slowly I approached. I stretched my hand out in front of me as I did.

  Right.

  Okay.

  Was I really going to introduce myself by shaking a little girl’s hand? Maybe I really had been hiding out in the bar for too long.

  I pulled back my hand and gave her a small wave instead. “Hi there, Penny. It’s really nice to meet you.”

  Shyly, she peered at me from where she had her head buried under Lyrik’s chin with eyes that were almost as dark as his.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my long-lost big brother, coming down from his castle to visit the common folk.”

  I looked to where the voice hit us from off to the side. Leaning up against the doorjamb with her arms crossed over her chest was a girl who was probably a year or two younger than me. Her mouth stretched into the widest grin when Lyrik turned toward her.

  “Ha ha ha, aren’t you hysterical?” he answered back, but it was all so clearly done in jest.

  The two looked so much alike, I was almost taken aback. Her hair and eyes were just as dark as Lyrik’s.

  Lyrik wrapped his free hand around my waist and tugged me against him. “Blue…meet my little sister, Mia. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I like her okay, I guess.”

  Obviously, the taunt was meant for her.

  She was laughing and shaking her head as she walked forward, and I was thanking God for her welcoming smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mia,” I said, unwinding myself from Lyrik’s hold. Bits of that old insecurity kept making their play, putting myself on the line this way, wondering just what in the world I was really doing here.

  “The pleasure’s all mine. It’s nice to see someone who can put up with this ass for more than three seconds.”

  She wrapped both her arms around Lyrik’s waist and placed her head on his chest. Everything between them went soft as he drew her into a hug while he still held her daughter in the other arm.

  “I missed you so much. Don’t stay away so long next time,” she said

  Um.

  Wow.

  This I was not expecting.

  Unease had me shifting my feet.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Promise.”

  She pulled back. “You better get inside. Mom’s about to have an aneurysm she’s so excited to see you. She’s baked the whole damned kitchen and I couldn’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure she knitted you a new pair of underwear or two.”

  “Underwear?” Penny drew out, like it was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

  Lyrik busted out laughing. “Wouldn’t put it past her.”

  When his sister released him, Lyrik stretched his hand out for me. “Come on, I want you to meet my mom and dad.”

  I could almost feel the heat of Mia’s gaze, the curiosity as her eyes flicked between my face and our entwined hands. Her intensity quite possibly as distinct as her brother’s. But different. Warmer and without the old bitterness that seemed to be the fuel to his fire.

  Still carrying Penny, Lyrik dragged me the rest of the way up the sidewalk, up the one concrete stair to the door, calling “I’m ho
me” as we stepped through it.

  Inside, I froze.

  Oh my God.

  I felt as if I’d stepped into an alternate universe. Kind of like the day I’d forced my way into Lyrik’s apartment uninvited and found him covered in frosting. But this was tenfold.

  Hell, probably a hundred.

  Memories of my grandmother’s house didn’t come close to competing with this, and I was sure she’d never gotten rid of one thing she’d collected throughout her entire life.

  Sugar and spice hovered in the air—no question the bearing of fresh cinnamon rolls in the oven—the smell so thick I could almost see the scented waves wafting down the hall from the kitchen. Pictures covered every inch of the walls, and every shelf and table was cluttered with knickknacks and artifacts. Crocheted doilies covered the tops of the antique wooden furniture and a colorful afghan was thrown on the back of the couch.

  Not one single thing matched.

  Make it if you want it to matter.

  Adding to the mayhem was the mess of toys strewn across the living room floor, a pop-up princess castle in one corner and a pile of huge pastel blocks in the other.

  A man who’d been sitting in an old recliner across from the TV, one who without a doubt was Lyrik’s father, climbed to his feet. “Lyrik…there’s my boy. Glad to see you’re back.”

  Releasing my hand, Lyrik met him halfway, gave him a shake of the hand and a clap to the back. The man grinned when he pulled away. “Of course, most of it has to do with the fact your mom is about to drive me out of my ever-lovin’ mind with her primping and puttering, thinking she has to get things ready for her own son to come home for a visit.”

  “Not for him, Karl…for his guest,” the voice hollered from down the hall.

  Redness crawled up my neck and heated my cheeks.

  Blushing again.

  What had I gotten myself into?

  “I’m Tamar,” I said, shoving my hand out toward him, praying for even a piece of Tamar King to show.

  “Hey…I ’fought your name was Bwue?” Penny demanded.

  My attention shot to her. Maybe it was from the tension and strain. Maybe it was from the uncertainty and the questions that had swirled around this whole trip. But I broke out laughing like some kind of crazed lunatic when I saw the confusion on the little girl’s too-pretty face.