Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  “Oh,” I murmured. “I was going to get a rental.”

  “Screw that,” was Kane’s immediate response. “Get your shit and come with me. We need to talk anyways.”

  “We do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, I prompted him. “…about?”

  “Let’s just wait ‘til we get on the road, yeah? We can leave whenever you want. If you want breakfast first, that’s fine, or –”

  “Or you could come back home with me?” Mel offered. “Take a little vacation – it might be good for you to get away from anything that’s gonna remind you of Maxwell for a few days.”

  That actually sounded pretty inviting. I already knew that everything about Vegas would remind me of Blake – it had been that way the last time he left, it would be that way again. Mel obviously knew that too. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d helped me do this.

  God, that thought was depressing.

  Kane answered Mel before I could, though. “No, that’s not – shit, I don’t think that’s what she should do.”

  “…what?” I croaked.

  “I’m just saying, running off to Nashville’s not what you should do.”

  “You think she should go home and sit in her apartment and cry instead, is that it?” Mel challenged.

  “Yeah, no, I don’t want to do that,” I said. “I mean, I’m probably going to cry anywhere, but Mel’s right –”

  “No, I really don’t think she is,” Kane interrupted.

  For a beat, there was silence. I think it was mainly Mel and my shock because Kane was rarely forceful about anything, let alone things that were so clearly not his business.

  Mel folded her arms across her chest. “I think you’ll find that I’m usually right.”

  I’d have laughed at that if I wasn’t so miserable.

  “Not about this,” Kane said stubbornly.

  “Did Blake put you up to this?” Mel asked sharply. “Does he want her back there just in case he changes his fool mind again? Is that it?!”

  “No. He knows I’m gonna take her home, that’s all. And anyway, he won’t be in Vegas, he’s headed for LA and –”

  “Oh, of course he is! Well, all the –”

  “Guys, stop,” I said, rubbing my hands over my face as the room fell silent again. “You’re both right. Running away to Nashville sounds good in theory, but it’s just putting off the inevitable. I should just go back to Vegas and get it over with.”

  “I never said you should go to Vegas,” Kane pointed out.

  “Then where should she go?!” Mel asked, clearly exasperated.

  “We’ll talk on the road,” he replied.

  “Talk here,” Mel demanded, but he ignored her.

  “Can we just leave?” I asked him. I didn’t even care what he wasn’t saying right then. I just wanted to be anywhere other than that room. “Please. I just want to go home.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Good – thanks,” I turned around and grabbed my bag, then started towards the door.

  “Hey, wait, what about Blake’s stuff?” Kane asked.

  I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Not my problem.” And I know I won’t be able to touch any of it without bursting into tears.

  Kane looked at me for a moment, then sighed and moved past me, grabbing Blake’s clothes and boots and shoving them into his duffel bag. “Let’s go,” he said when he turned back around.

  93

  I hugged Mel goodbye outside the room and, thankfully, Kane and I didn’t run in to any of our other friends while we checked out of the hotel.

  Ten minutes later, we were cruising down the freeway in his ruby red Chevrolet Impala – though I have to be honest, the beauty of his classic car was wasted on me.

  “So, we both know I’m not very good at this, but are you ready for another awkward conversation?” Kane asked.

  “…huh?” I dragged my eyes from the seemingly endless dusty landscape that faded onto the horizon on both sides of the car, and looked across at him.

  He gave me a gentle smile. “Just gonna jump right in – I don’t think I should take you back to Vegas. I think we should go to LA.”

  “…why would we do that?”

  “You need to go make things right with Blake.”

  I was sure I must have heard him wrong. “What?”

  “You can’t just give up on him.”

  No. It was official. He was a crazy person.

  “He just broke up with me!” I said in astonishment. “What am I supposed to do? Tell him I don’t accept it like some kind of lunatic?!”

  “Well, maybe don’t phrase it like that exactly –”

  “You’re insane if you think I’m going to go chasing after him. I did that before with Connor, remember? Back when he treated me just like this?” I snorted in disgust. “They’re just the same. What’s that saying? Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, fool me three times…well, only I’m dumb enough to actually get fooled three times so I guess I should just make that one up for myself – oh! Here’s an idea: fool me three times, stick a fork in me, because I’m done!”

  Kane shot me a look that said he’d rather be anywhere than stuck in a car with the ranting female currently sitting next to him. “Or you could actually think about it for a second.”

  “I thought about it all night!”

  “Well, you have shitty reasoning then!” he snapped.

  My mouth dropped open at that because I don’t think I’d ever really seen Kane get mad until that moment. Kane got ‘concerned’ or ‘awkward’ or ‘mildly disgruntled’ – but he hardly ever got mad.

  “I loved Connor like a brother,” he continued. “But he wasn’t always a good guy – in fact, a lot of the time he was a little shit. Especially when it came to you. I can’t believe you’d even compare Blake to him when it comes to this.” There was disappointment bleeding into his tone when he said that last part, which hurt coming from Kane.

  So, typical me, I got defensive. “How can I not? Are you telling me that Blake coming back here and forcing his way back into my life, convincing me to give him another chance, and then blowing it all to hell isn’t just like Connor? You’re telling me that isn’t pretty much exactly what Connor did?!”

  For a long moment, Kane just stared at the road ahead of him, until he eventually muttered, “Fine. When you put it like that, it’s the same –”

  “Thank you –”

  “– but you’re not being fair, and I think you know it.”

  I opened my mouth to say Why should I HAVE to be fair?! but he carried right on before I could get the words out.

  “And maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about here – but Blake’s been my best friend since we were six years old and I’ve never seen him as happy as he has been the last few weeks.”

  “He left me, Kane,” I reminded him.

  “I know he did.” When he glanced across at me, I saw the worried crease between his brows. “And I have no idea why he did, just like I didn’t know why he did three years ago – but I know he didn’t want to. That’s the one thing I’m completely fucking sure of. Whatever reason he has for doing this, it’s not ‘cause he wants to.”

  I snorted and looked away. “What, did someone put a gun to his head?”

  Kane ignored that comment. “You know him, Amy. You just get him. You two always had a connection. Even when you were with Connor and all you and Blake did was argue and piss each other off, there was something there. Jesus, he was so obsessed with you back then – still is, by the way. There’s no way on earth he’d just change his mind about you. There’s something else going on here. So you need to stop focusing on your hurt feelings and actually think about it. Talk to him.”

  “I’m not chasing someone who doesn’t want me,” I said stubbornly.

  “If that’s all you have to say then fine, guess I was wrong. Guess you don’t give a shit about him after all.”


  At the accusation in those words, I whirled my head back around to glare at him – and that’s when I saw the calculating look on his face.

  Kane, meet Subtlety. You won’t get along.

  “You’re trying to make me feel guilty,” I accused. “Why should I feel guilty?!”

  He just shrugged.

  “Kane!”

  He shot me a mock-confused look. “What? If you don’t give a shit you don’t give a shit – my bad for even mentioning it. I’ll just take you back to Vegas.”

  I clamped my lips together and turned away again, trying to fight back my anger.

  I liked Kane. I trusted Kane. He didn’t deserve my anger.

  Blake did.

  Blake and his goddamn mixed signals.

  I remember EVERYTHING about you…I can’t let you go.

  You were fuckin’ made for me. Only me.

  There’s nothing to explain. I just can’t do this anymore.

  Just fucking accept it.

  “Thinking about it yet?” Kane asked.

  “Shut up.”

  And I ran so far and so fast

  But you bring me home

  And home again…

  Love doesn’t mean people stick around – it doesn’t mean everything’s gonna be okay. All it means is that it hurts more when everything falls apart.

  “…he’s running,” I murmured.

  “Yes,” Kane agreed instantly.

  I frowned as I looked at him. “But…why is he running from me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He loves me. I know that sounds stupid right now, but he does.”

  “I know.”

  I teared up. “It’s like we’re going in circles.”

  Kane glanced at me, then back at the road. “Then break the cycle.”

  I bit my lip, staring out of the windshield at the highway in front of us.

  I thought hard.

  For miles…

  You know when something suddenly hits you and you realize that it’s been staring you in the face all along? And, God, are you a dumbass for missing it?

  That pretty much sums up what happened then.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed as everything started to fall into place in my head. I turned to Kane suddenly. “I need to go to LA–”

  The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he looked across at me.

  “– but I need to make a stop in Vegas first.”

  94

  It was almost midnight when we drove through the gated community in Venice Beach where Blake lived. The stop I’d insisted on in Vegas had taken longer than I’d anticipated, and then we’d had to take a couple of breaks along the way to eat and use the restroom.

  Kane had driven the whole way, joking that he didn’t trust me to drive his car – although the fact that he actually didn’t let me take a turn, even when he was clearly tired, told me that he wasn’t technically joking.

  As the Impala slid past some seriously huge mansions, I fought the feeling of nervous nausea that welled up in my stomach.

  I can do this.

  I HAVE to do this.

  Because, when you have nothing to lose – when the thing that you want the most is already out the door – you have no choice but to go all in.

  Kane took a turn on the darkened street and slowed the car, before pulling up outside a huge, wrought iron gate. The driveway beyond curved around palm trees and bushes so that you couldn’t see the house beyond.

  So, this is where Blake lives.

  Kane rolled down his window and stuck his arm out to punch a code into the keypad next to the gates. A moment later, they swung open and we drove through slowly.

  Gradually, the house came into view. Based on what I’d seen of Venice Beach architecture so far, it looked pretty typical. It was like a series of white boxes stuck together. Despite its huge size and the fact that it clearly cost a sickening amount of money, the thing that struck me most about it was how bland and impersonal it looked. I don’t really know what I had been expecting, but it wasn’t that.

  Kane pulled up outside, next to Blake’s dust covered Mustang that didn’t look like it had been parked so much as it had been abandoned.

  The house was dark apart from the motion sensor porch light that flicked on at our arrival.

  It looked deserted.

  That nauseous feeling doubled.

  “Okay?” Kane asked quietly from beside me.

  No.

  “…yeah.”

  “I’ll wait here for you. Shoot me a text if you don’t need me to stick around.”

  “Thanks,” I said sincerely. “You’re a really good friend – to him and to me.”

  Kane was suddenly bashful, looking down and scrubbing a hand over his head. “Well…you know…”

  “Wish me luck?”

  He looked back up at me and offered me a small smile. “Luck – hey, don’t forget this,” he said as he grabbed a large brown envelope that had been resting on the dash – our whole reason for stopping in Vegas.

  “Thanks,” I repeated as I took it from him.

  Then I got out of the car and walked towards the silent house.

  95

  Biting down hard on my lower lip, I raised a shaky hand and knocked on the black wood of the wide, double door.

  Nothing.

  I rang the doorbell next and heard it echoing around the inside of the house.

  Nothing.

  Glancing back at the red Impala behind me, I saw Kane nod encouragingly from behind the steering wheel.

  Right. Try the door, Amy.

  Even if it was locked, I knew that Kane had a key…

  But it wasn’t locked.

  It opened almost too easily, swinging open to reveal the darkened vastness of the lobby of the house. Stepping through into that gaping void was like stepping into a cold cave.

  I almost turned on a light, but something stopped me, and I didn’t really need to anyway. The lobby that I was standing in rose straight up through the height of the house and there was a large skylight at the top that allowed the silver moonlight to pool on the floor in front of me in a large, crisp square.

  Closing the door quietly, I walked across that patch of light, my shadow disturbing its clean lines, to the foot of the staircase that was dead ahead.

  “…Blake?” I called softly.

  Nothing.

  But I knew he was there. Somewhere.

  I climbed to the first floor. The doors stood open to every room and the moonlight spilled in through the wide windows. I walked slowly along the hallway and looked into each one.

  There were five vast bedrooms, the king-sized beds made up and perfect with matching wall art that flawlessly tied in the linen with the furniture.

  There were three bathrooms with fluffy towels stacked in size order on counter tops next to gleaming faucets.

  There was a huge music room with a glossy, black baby grand piano in the center, a polished drum kit in the corner, and at least two dozen guitars – acoustic and electric – hanging from brackets on the wall. There was a shelf full of awards. Pictures of the band. Framed platinum albums.

  And not a single one of those rooms, even the music room, looked like anyone had ever set foot in there.

  Every inch of them looked completely untouched.

  It was like what you’d expect to see in a Home Décor magazine. Even Blake’s suite at the Bellagio had contained more of his personality than this place – his supposed ‘home’.

  When I reached the next staircase, at the end of the hallway, I finally heard something.

  The faint plucking of acoustic guitar strings.

  When I emerged from the top of that staircase, onto the second floor, I finally saw a sliver of light coming from the far end of the hallway, from under the only door in the whole place that was closed.

  I paused outside. My left hand was sweaty around the envelope that I still held; the fingers of my right hand twitched as they drifted towards the door knob –r />
  Then the sound of the guitar stopped abruptly.

  Barely a second later, I heard an almighty splintering CRASH.

  I shoved the door open quickly, my heart thudding against my ribs as I entered the room and then came to an abrupt stop.

  Blake was standing by the wall – close to a spot where the plaster was dented and cracked – with the neck of his shattered guitar still clutched in his hands; his teeth were bared and his chest was heaving as his piercing blue eyes shot to the doorway.

  To me.

  For a second, he just looked completely stunned. His face went slack with shock and he stumbled back a step, dropping the remains of his acoustic to the floor with a clatter.

  But then his shoulders squared and his expression shifted to pure scorn. “…the fuck?!”

  I dropped my eyes to the wooden shrapnel that was scattered across the floor, then moved them back up to meet his again. “Having a bad day?”

  96

  Blake stared at me for a moment, scowling. “What part of ‘we’re over’ don’t you get?”

  I stared right back at him. “The part where you mean it.”

  He snorted a rough, disdainful laugh; it was an ugly sound, like gravel on sandpaper. “Well, fuck. This is just getting embarrassing,” he sneered as he turned his back and walked over to the couch that was set by the wall. He plopped down on to it and grabbed up the yellow legal pad that was resting on one of the cushions, effectively dismissing me.

  I waited for several seconds, but he just acted like I wasn’t there.

  It was then that I noticed the half empty bottle of bourbon that was sitting on the floor at his feet. It was the cheap stuff. The same brand Connor used to drink.

  From there, my eyes continued to wander.

  Although the room was as huge as all the others, unlike every other part of the house that I’d seen it was totally and completely Blake.

  Opposite the couch, there was a bed with simple, black cotton sheets. Next to that there was a single night stand with a small lamp on it – the only illumination in the room. Stacked on the nightstand and on the floor next to it there were dozens of old, well-worn books. Mostly horrors and thrillers by the look of it, Stephen King among them.