by S. L. Scott
Rivers
The Crow Brothers
S.L. SCOTT
Copyright © 2018 by S.L. SCOTT
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any similarities to real names of people are purely coincidence.
Design: RBA Designs
Photographer: Nikita TV
Editing:
Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies
Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts
Marla Esposito, Proofing Style
Kristen Johnson, Proofreader
Contents
Also By S.L. SCOTT
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
The Crow Brothers
Jet Crow - Spark
Ridge
Also by S.L. SCOTT
On a Personal Note
About the Author
Also By S.L. SCOTT
To keep up to date with her writing and more, her website is www.slscottauthor.com
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The Crow Brothers
Spark
Tulsa
Rivers
Ridge - September 2018
Hard to Resist Series
The Resistance
The Reckoning
The Redemption
The Revolution
The Rebellion
The Kingwood Duet
SAVAGE
SAVIOR
SACRED
SOLACE
Talk to Me Duet
Sweet Talk
Dirty Talk
Welcome to Paradise Series
Good Vibrations
Good Intentions
Good Sensations
Happy Endings
Welcome to Paradise Series
From the Inside Out Series
Scorned
Jealousy
Dylan
Austin
From the Inside Out Compilation
Stand Alone Books
Everest
Missing Grace
Until I Met You
Drunk on Love
Naturally, Charlie
A Prior Engagement
Lost in Translation
Sleeping with Mr. Sexy
Morning Glory
Prologue
Rivers
The rain doesn’t bother me.
Gray clouds and dark skies fit my mood better than sunny days have in years.
I’m better off without her.
The lies come easier these days. I used to mentally stammer over the words even if I wasn’t voicing them out loud. I thought it would become second nature to tell myself she was wrong for me. That I was wrong for her. When we were together, she was a girl becoming a woman and a beautiful fucking mess of emotions. When we were together, I was a boy becoming a man, a fuckup compared to who I wanted to be.
But I loved her. Loved us. I loved every fucking emotion and remember them like it was yesterday.
Only it wasn’t. It was five fucking years ago.
“I’m better off without her.” I repeat the lie, still not believing a damn word. The words are bitter on my tongue, such a contradiction to how sweet the memories taste.
She was my everything.
Until she wasn’t.
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and I exhale a slow breath. The raindrops become sprinkles and then stop altogether. As if the universe is clearing the path for me to follow my heart, I get out of my 4Runner and lean against it, facing the school.
Five years have dragged since I walked away, leaving my heart broken at her feet. I can’t go another day pretending she wasn’t my every-fucking-thing. That’s why I’m back. For her—Stella Lilith Fellowes.
Star of the night.
Star of my life.
I miss her so fucking much, but I begin to debate if I have a right to be here at all.
What am I doing?
She hates me. This is such a bad idea. It’s after five, so she might not even be here. I open the door to leave but still when I hear, “Rivers?”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and am slow to exhale. It starts drizzling again. Is this a sign? Will we always be trapped under a dark cloud, or can we find blue skies again?
When I turn around, my breath stops hard in my chest.
She’s absolutely stunning.
I’ve rummaged through a box of photos a million times. I’ve watched video upon video on the loneliest of nights. I’ve had dreams that feel so real that I wake up expecting her to be next to me.
But my memories don’t do her justice.
I only remember the girl.
Before me now stands a woman. The woman she’s become without me. Her brown hair is pulled up, but some strands have escaped, the misty air making them stick to her skin. I can’t stop from smiling.
She’s better than any dream could ever be.
The white shirt she’s wearing reveals lace under the wet fabric. Too much of her legs are covered by a skirt, but I still remember the great shape of her calves. Her glasses slip down, but she pushes the middle back up the bridge of her nose. She never wore glasses when we were together, so it serves as another reminder of what I’ve missed.
“God, you’re beautiful.” I don’t mean to say it, but I don’t regret it either.
She gifts me with the smile I’ve missed every minute of every year we were apart, but it fades away too fast. “What are you doing here?”
What am I doing here?
There are so many possible answers, and while all of them are true, none of them are right.
I miss her. I love her. I’m so fucking sorry for ruining everything.
My first album set the charts on fire, and all I wanted to do was come home and find her because celebrating this achievement or any without her was never in the plans. Shutting the door, I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans and shift. “I needed to see you.”
She moves her bag to her chest and wraps her arms around it. “Needed?”
“Wanted?”
The rain still touches her, but she makes no move to leave, willing to brave the elements just like me. “Are you asking me, Rivers?”
“I wanted to see you.” Shaking my head, I know I’m fucking this up. “I wanted to come because I needed to see you.”
“Why?” She looks arou
nd as if to make sure there are no witnesses before she comes closer, keeping some distance between us.
I take a few steps but don’t invade her space like I want to. “When did you start wearing glasses?”
“Did you come here to ask about my glasses?”
The answer to that question isn’t what she really wants to know, but maybe she’s stalling like I am. It feels good to be this close to her, to be talking to her again. I smile, and this time, it tempts one from her. But she’s stronger than I am. She held out longer, didn’t take my calls, didn’t return my texts, never contacted me.
We stand face-to-face with a thousand unspoken questions jostling between us. I could take another step, two maybe, and breathe in the faint smell of oranges. I could extend an arm and touch her. But I don’t. She’s not mine anymore, and as natural as it would feel to do either of those things, I know there’s an ocean between who we are and who we used to be.
Glancing at one of the few cars that remain in the parking lot, she says, “I should go.”
As I try to come up with something to say, I start memorizing everything about her in case I’m not given another opportunity.
She doesn’t wear a ring on her left hand.
I used to kiss the soft skin behind the earrings that dot her earlobes.
A simple thin gold necklace highlights the delicate curve of her neck.
Even though raindrops coat her lenses, her green eyes still shine behind them.
When my gaze dips to the lace that clings to the skin I used to kiss, I search for the one thing that will always bind us together. She turns to leave, so I say the first thing I can think of to keep her here. “Your earrings. I remember buying them at a stand in South Padre during spring break.”
Two fingers touch her right earring and spin the little turquoise teardrops. When she looks back at me, she replies, “You did. I remember.”
Relief washes across her face, and she finally smiles as if we’ve come to an understanding. The smile is smaller than I want, but more than I deserve. “It was good seeing you again.”
My heart lurches in my throat, desperate to keep talking to her, even if only for a minute. But I can’t find the words when I need them most. “Stella—”
“Goodbye.” She turns on her heel and heads across the parking lot. Water splashes under her feet as she moves quicker than necessary.
With each step she takes farther from me, my mind races faster. And by the time she’s backing her beige sedan from the parking spot, I’m next to her window. She takes a deep breath and exhales before rolling it down. “It’s good to see you,” I choke out.
Her glasses are on the seat next to her, and she tugs at the seat belt across her body. Although she peeks up at me, she’s quick to look away again. With her head down, she says, “It’s hard seeing you on TV and hearing your songs on the radio . . .” When her eyes find mine again, her shoulders drop as if she’s given up. “But hearing your voice, and you standing so close that I can touch you but . . . but can’t. It . . . Why are you here? Tell me, because I was doing just fine, and now . . .”
The rain isn’t to blame for the water in her eyes.
I am.
Pressing my hands against the car, I lean over, looking into her eyes while ignoring the lump burning in my throat. “Because I’ve spent five years regretting every day that didn’t have you in it. Can I see you again? Can I come over and talk—”
She shakes her head, and then says, “It’s too late for us.”
“But I just want to—”
“I’m taken.”
Of all the things I expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. My hands fall off the car as I take a step back. “Stella?”
“No, Rivers. Just . . . no.”
She pulls away, and I realize I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for goodbye. I look at the sky, broken open and raining, and that familiar feeling returns. What I’ve felt for so long.
Empty.
1
Rivers
I was a disaster years in the making.
Haunted by my mother’s death, I tried to drown myself in booze and drugs to cover the pain. But when I eventually lost Stella, I lost myself for good. Traveling through the past five years like a ghost, I don’t even recognize this life as my own.
As soon as the cab dropped me off from the airport, I threw my stuff in the back seat and took off to see her before I changed my mind. Two hours later, I shift my SUV into park, sitting in the driveway of my brother’s house knowing I’m going in there alone. I didn’t think showing up at her work unannounced would have her dropping her life to breathe life back into mine, but it didn’t exactly go as planned either.
Sometimes, I get caught up in the image I portray in my day to day. To the outside world, I’m the bass guitarist for a world-famous band. My face is on the cover of magazines, and I have the world at my fingertips. But they don’t see the dark I carry inside, the grieving I never do because the devastation overwhelms me. I’ve become a master of disguise, hiding who I am on the inside.
Smile for the camera.
Play for the fans.
Do the paparazzi dance, pretending nothing’s fucking wrong.
A week ago, I was at a party in New York City celebrating my band’s success. Surrounded by my brothers and bandmates, our producer, mentor, and idol—Johnny Outlaw—his wife who helped us launch a line of apparel, Holli Hughes, and our manager, Tommy. I dragged my hand along the glass edge that separated me from the street fifty-five stories below. The world at my fingertips. The toast of the town. All the money in the world.
Something inside me is unsettled. We’re unsettled because we never closed that chapter of our lives. We ended too fast, drastically, and without parting words to satisfy a broken heart to carry on and find someone new to love, but my heart is incapable of loving anyone but her.
Fame can’t heal a broken heart.
Money won’t fill a body missing its soul.
Only a soul mate can reconcile the two. And Stella is mine.
Six days, five interviews, four performances, and three cities later, I set my suitcase down in the living room and toss my backpack on a chair. Letting my jacket slide down my arms, I throw that and my hat on the chair. I look around the old house, not knowing what to do with myself.
I had gotten a text before leaving Vancouver this morning that my sister-in-law, Hannah, had the fridge stocked for me. Jet, my oldest brother, Hannah, and my nephew Alfie moved out of this house a few months ago when they made Los Angeles their new home. Since they had my niece a few months ago, the house here in Austin hasn’t been a priority. I’m taking advantage of the vacancy before it goes on the market. It will be a nice crash pad for the next ten days.
Dead tired, I drag my ass to the fridge and pull out a beer while taking a quick tally of the food inside. I’m pretty set while I’m here. I hold my beer up in silent praise for Hannah.
My stomach growls, so I take a pizza from the freezer and heat the oven.
It’s weird to be back in Austin, a place where Stella exists not but a few miles away. I was drawn to her the moment I heard her say my name again. That connection we had before was still there. I wanted to touch her, kiss her, and hold her again. It was painful to keep that distance between us, going against every fiber of my being.
She looked so beautiful, my pretty little mess, except she’s not mine. Her words come back like a vengeance and gut me once again. “I’m taken.”
Taken. Such a strange way to say she’s dating someone. Taken? Not I’m in a committed relationship. Not I’m seeing someone. Not I’m in love with someone else. But taken. Taken? She’s taken with some guy? She’s not available?
I shove the pizza pan in the oven and lean against the counter. Drinking my beer, I stare at the oven between gulps. I finish a can before the oven timer goes off and grab another. After seeing her, drunk is not a bad state for me to be in.
Eating.
Drinki
ng.
Passing out.
I pound down the Totino’s pizza and five beers before I’m lying on the couch staring at a TV I’ve not turned on. The blank screen allows my thoughts to flow back to Stella five years ago.
My clothes are on the lawn, my textbooks flying through the air and landing at my feet when I show up outside our apartment. Stella’s yelling so loud that I make the mistake to try to quiet her before the cops are called. “Shhhh. Calm down, Stella.”
“How dare you tell me what to do! Screw you!” She flings a book in my direction, but it falls short from hitting me. “Where’s your new girlfriend, Rivers?” She disappears inside again, but I can hear her loud and clear, along with the whole apartment complex. “Or did you have sex with Naomi and actually think you could come back to me?”
When she steps out on the balcony, yelling for me to confess, I can only repeat the truth, “I didn’t cheat on you, Stella.”
“Really? What happened then?”
Her eyes are crazed, her mouth pressed so tight her lips pale. Her hands are bound in fists from her fury as she stares down from the second floor. My mind spins as I stumble between what I can tell her and what I can’t. I stupidly gave my word to Naomi to keep her secret until she’s settled. “Stella, I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because she asked me not to tell anyone.”
