ANOTHER SKY

by Jayne Frost

  Finally.

  Except…nothing felt closed.

  And as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t talk to Tori about it. Not now.

  She’d finally moved on from her grief. Fallen in love again. And in some strange way, that had brought us back together.

  After the accident, we’d drifted apart. And that was a good thing. Something we’d needed to do. Because when we had been together, sharing the same space, it was like the sum of our losses was too big. All-consuming.

  Knowing that Tori was out there in the world with a heart as heavy as mine had made my own burden a little easier to bear.

  But now I felt the weight of it more acutely than I had in years. A fact I was determined to hide. So, I’d been avoiding her calls.

  Reaching the far end of the field, I eased onto the soft ground beneath the burned-out shell of the elm tree where I’d found Rhenn and lost him minutes later.

  “Hey, buddy. Guess you know about that gig last night.” My voice fell to a whisper, and I looked down. “Of course you do.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I blew out a staggered breath and pulled the whiskey from my pocket. “It was weird, you know, not having y’all there to celebrate. So I thought I’d bring the celebration to you.”

  Twisting off the cap with shaky fingers, I fought the urge to bring the bottle to my lips.

  One drink. What could it hurt?

  As I pondered throwing away years of sobriety, a gust of wind blew across the field, kicking up topsoil and dust.

  Chuckling, I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. “Message received. You don’t have to get all testy about it.”

  I wasn’t an alcoholic. Or a drug addict. But booze was still a slippery slope. A year after the crash, I’d landed in rehab from an “accidental” overdose that wasn’t an accident at all. It only took the counselor a week to get to the root of my real problem. Soul-crushing depression—the clinical kind.

  They’d fixed me up with medication that kept the dark clouds at bay. Mostly. But I never told anyone about my diagnosis. Somehow it was easier to let people believe I was a drunk.

  With a sigh, I turned the bottle upside down. “Miss you, bro.” After the last drop of liquor soaked into the hallowed ground, I hauled to my feet. “See you on the other side.”

  Taking a last look around, I stopped breathing when I spotted a little patch of wildflowers some twenty yards away. Most of the blossoms had wilted on the stems. But a few buds remained.

  Red, like Paige’s hair.

  After all this time, I’d found her.

  My feet moved swiftly with little protest from my bad leg. Brushing a hand over the velvety soft petals, tears spilled onto my cheeks, surprising me. Because I’d never cried for Paige. She didn’t visit me in my dreams. And I couldn’t see her face when I closed my eyes.

  That was my penance. The price I’d paid for rejecting her that final night.

  But she was here with me now. Her scent on the breeze, and her warmth on my skin. And she gave me the one thing I’d been searching for, even if I didn’t deserve it.

  Forgiveness.

  Miles

  I woke with a groan, light dancing behind my lids and a thin sheen of sweat covering my body. Everything hurt. Not the dull, aching pain I was used to. This felt like someone put my leg in a vise and cranked the damn thing to the limit.

  Rolling onto my side, my thigh brushed warm, soft skin. And when I opened my eyes, ribbons of dark hair fanned the pillow, spilling over slender shoulders like an ebony river.

  Trinity.

  I scrubbed a hand down my face, searching my memory for any clues about last night. Thanks to the pill I’d taken after I’d gotten home from the crash site, I was pretty far gone by the time I’d gotten out of the shower.

  Is that when she’d shown up?

  Peeking under the covers, I blew out a relieved breath. I was still wearing the same T-shirt and sweatpants I’d thrown on after my shower. Given my condition last night, I was relatively certain there had been no sex. But the clothes were an added reassurance.

  I gave up trying to piece things together and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Trinity was here because she was supposed to be here. We had an arrangement. But it was never meant to include sleepovers.

  I’d met her a year ago when I’d needed a plus one to accompany me to a charity event. Scaring up a woman was about as easy as walking into a bar on Sixth and snapping my fingers, but I’d given up on doing that after a fangirl went on to describe her “wild night with Miles Cooper” in great detail to a tabloid. Or ten.

  It took a little digging, but I found an escort service—completely above board—with non-disclosure agreements and iron-clad contracts. Sex was not part of the deal. And Trinity made sure to reiterate that when I called to make the arrangements for our date.

  “I don’t sleep with my clients.”

  I’d replied with a snort because I had no interest in sleeping with the girl. Until she’d climbed onto my lap in the limo after the fundraiser.

  Our one date turned into a standing Friday night arrangement.

  It wasn’t just about the sex. Sometimes we shared a meal. Or watched a movie. I didn’t mind spending time with Trinity as long as she was gone before morning. There was a kind of peace that went with knowing I didn’t have to play games and pretend we were something we weren’t.

  So much for that.

  Irked, I reached for the bottle of Advil on the nightstand. After swallowing four of the pills, I hauled to my feet and hobbled to the desk. Rifling through the drawer, I found my rarely used checkbook. A kernel of doubt tickled the inside of my brain, drawing my attention to the bed. One glimpse of Trinity’s contented smile and I finished filling in the blanks.

  Her eyes fluttered open when I laid the envelope on the nightstand. “Morning,” she said dreamily as she stretched her arms over her head. “What time is it?”

  Late. Too late.

  “Around six.”

  A beat of silence and she frowned, her focus drifting to my leg. “What’s wrong?” She slowly rose to her elbows. “Are you in pain?”

  Gold threaded her chestnut locks, and I wondered why I’d never noticed it before. Tucking a fallen strand behind her ear, I let my fingers dwell on her soft skin. “Not too much.” Dropping my hand, I forced a smile. “I’m going to grab a shower. You should go.”

  I started for the bathroom but only made it a few steps before her voice rose up behind me. “What is this, Miles? My payoff?”

  Her voice trembled. In anger. Or hurt. I wasn’t sure.

  Schooling my features, I turned to face her. Tears pooled in her eyes as she held the check with a shaky hand.

  “You can keep your twenty grand. I don’t want your money.”

  She searched my face with sad brown eyes. Like maybe if she looked hard enough, she’d find something else. Something more.

  “Money’s all I got, Trin. I thought you knew that.”

  Dashing a tear from her cheek, she climbed to her feet. “Then why did you ask me to stay?”

  It came back to me then. The words I’d whispered before I drifted off. Words that were never meant for her.

  Stay with me, sunshine.

  “I didn’t.”

  I braced myself, expecting her to argue the point. Instead, she sank onto the side of the bed and just blinked at me. “It was never about the money,” she said softly. “I just wanted to be with you.”

  Guilt coiled around my heart. Heavy and familiar. But I pushed it away. Because I wasn’t a prince. Or a savior. Or whatever the hell Trinity saw when she looked at me. I was just a guy who paid to make sure she was gone before the sun came up.

  “I know, darlin’. That’s why you need to go.”

  An hour later, I finally managed to make it downstairs. Clenching my teeth against the pain searing down my leg, I headed straight for my salvation—the built-in coffee machine.

  “Rough night?” Emily asked as I poured a cup.

  Jumping out of my s
kin, I spilled some of the steaming brew on the floor. “Fucking hell, Em,” I growled, my gaze snapping to the window seat where she was perched. “What are you doing over there?”

  Her teasing smile faded as she looked me over. “What is it? Are you in pain?”

  I didn’t bother to hide my discomfort. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This was Emily. She’d been working as my assistant for three years, running my errands and making my doctor appointments.

  “A little.” Shrugging off the confession, I stirred sugar into my cup. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Ignoring my weak attempt to downplay the situation, she eased to her feet. “Bullshit. How bad is it? Scale of one to ten.”

  I took a sip of coffee, hiding my grimace. “About a seven.”

  Really, I was at an eight. Fast approaching a nine. But even more concerning was the edginess. Normally, things didn’t faze me. My meds made sure of that. But right now, I was keyed up. Wound tighter than a guitar string. It was like the world was too bright. Too loud all of a sudden.

  Emily shook her head as she swiped through the contacts on her phone. “I’m calling Dr. Reber.”

  In a flash, the edginess escalated to full-blown anger, and I made a grab for her cell. “Did I ask for your help?”

  She jumped, shock painting her features. “Whoa, Miles. What’s up with you?”

  Her attention slid from my face to the veins cording my neck, and I could see the wheels turning.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, I dropped onto a barstool. “Sorry. It’s just…Trinity was here this morning when I woke up. She spent the night.”

  If Emily had looked shocked before, it was nothing compared to her surprise now. She glanced over at the archway as if she expected Trinity to materialize at any moment.

  “I told her to leave,” I said, staring into my cup. “She won’t be coming back.”

  The regret I should’ve felt an hour ago swamped me. Not because I’d broken it off. That needed to happen. But did I have to be so cold about it?

  Another stabbing pain, and I looked down, only to find my fingers digging into my thigh with a vengeance.

  Self-harm. Lovely.

  Bracing my elbows on the bar, I dropped my head into my hands. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give Reber a call.”

  Emily jerked a nod, the phone already pressed to her ear. She spoke in a hushed tone as she wandered to the other room. But there was no need. I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying if I tried. My mind was everywhere.

  Easing back into my seat, I finished my coffee, hoping the caffeine would help me center myself.

  Five minutes later she reappeared, a satisfied smile curving her lips. “You’ve got an appointment in an hour.” Reading my surprise, she lifted a slender shoulder in a half shrug. “He’s squeezing you in.”

  Tamping down my irritation, I stalked to the coffee maker for another dose. “Jesus, Em. I hope you didn’t make it sound like I was dying or something.” She didn’t respond, her focus on the window. “What are you looking at?”

  I tapped my spoon on the edge of the cup to get her attention, and she jerked. Maybe I wasn’t as astute at reading her as she was at reading me, but I knew when something was up.

  “Considering my mood,” I said in a measured tone, “I’d think twice about keeping something from me.”

  Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a business card and slid it onto the marble countertop.

  Daryl Creston. Private Security.

  Emily’s hands flew up when I lifted my murderous gaze. “It wasn’t me. I swear. He was waiting by the front door when I got here. I tried to ask him some questions, and he clammed up and gave me that card.”

  At the height of my fame, bodyguards were essential. Ridding myself of the constant intrusion was one of the only perks of slipping into obscurity.

  “Well, he didn’t hire himself,” I grumbled, flipping the card over in search of clues.

  And that’s when I saw it. A small logo with two hearts wrapped in barbed wire. Twin Souls.

  Emily inched closer. “Isn’t that Tori’s company?”

  And Taryn’s. But I kept that to myself. Like maybe if I didn’t say her name out loud, all the things I’d pushed down would stay buried. But it was there. A huge ball of guilt and remorse and shame in the pit of my gut with Taryn’s name on it.

  Taryn had been Damaged’s manager. And Paige’s best friend. She was also the first person I saw when I woke up in the hospital after the accident. And the only person I allowed to stick with me through my recovery. And stick, she did. Even after I told her I didn’t need her anymore, she came by my house every day. To drop off food I didn’t eat. And hold my hand when there were no words.

  A year later, it was Taryn who found me on the floor of my bathroom, barely breathing, with enough booze and pills in my stomach to bring down a horse. She’d saved me. But at the time I hadn’t wanted to be saved. A fact I’d made abundantly clear when I’d come to in my bed in the psych ward with her in the chair beside me.

  “Don’t you know how pathetic you are, Taryn? Always trying to help. Always hanging around. Even when you’re not wanted. Paige thought so too. She was just too nice to say it.”

  All the while, Taryn had just sat there, a single tear dancing on the tip of her lashes. I’d hated that tear. Because it meant she cared. That she’d mourn me if I died. And that’s the reason I’d agreed to check myself into Millwood. Taryn and that single tear.

  My leg throbbed in earnest now, and I welcomed it. The trade of one kind of pain for another. That was my life. A series of compromises and lesser evils.

  Tossing Emily a grim smile, I shoved the card in my pocket. “I’ll worry about it later. I need to get to my appointment.”

  On my fourth try, Tori finally answered the phone, issuing a sleepy, “Morning, Miles” in her lazy drawl. I guess love agreed with her. Because there was a peace in her voice I hadn’t heard in years. But since I was hanging by a thread, I didn’t bother with any pleasantries.

  “Call him off,” I growled as I jerked to a stop in the parking space in front of Reber’s office. “Tell him to go the fuck home or wherever he came from.”

  Adjusting the rearview mirror, I glared at the dude climbing out of the Jeep. He was dressed all in black from his T-shirt to his boots. A pair of mirrored aviators hid his eyes, but I knew he was looking right at me.

  Tori’s chuckle raced across the line. “You must be talking about Daryl.”

  I sneered at his reflection. And he smiled. Fucker. “The dude is a creeper. Jumped out from behind a pillar in my garage when I was getting into my truck. I don’t even know how he got in there! I told him I wasn’t interested in his services. But he won’t get a fucking clue.”

  “He doesn’t work for you,” Tori said, the smile in her tone evident. “So I doubt he’ll be taking any orders, no matter how loud you bellow. Besides, Daryl’s all right. He did a great job for me. That’s why Twin Souls put him on the payroll.”

  I stifled a frustrated groan. “If he’s such a cool dude then why isn’t he with you?” When she didn’t answer straightaway, I cast a suspicious glance at my phone. “Please tell me you have security.”

  A deep rumbling laugh I recognized as Logan Cage’s bled through the speaker. “She doesn’t need security. She’s got me.”

  Images of Tori in Paris a couple of months ago flashed in my head. The swarm of paparazzi. Tori on her knees, shielding her face from the cameras. And of course, the now infamous photo of Logan being dragged away in handcuffs while she dissolved into a puddle of tears.

  If that was Cage’s idea of protecting her, he had a lot to learn.

  My already frayed nerves unwound a little more, and I snapped. “This is a private conversation, bud. So back off. I’m talking to your girl.”

  His girl. The words left a sour taste in my mouth. Because they were true. Tori was Logan’s girl now. Not Rhenn’s.

  All the fight left me, and I let my
head fall back, digging my fingers into my eyes while Cage squawked in the background. I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. Which led me to believe something was muffling the speaker.

  And then things got quiet. Just Tori’s breath on the other end of the line. In all the years we’d been estranged, I’d never felt such distance.

  “Miles? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tori sighed. “Logan didn’t mean anything. He would never let anything happen to me. You know that, right?”

  Anything I said would likely lead to a fight, so I settled for a grunt.

  “Anyway,” she went on, forcing cheer into her tone. “It’s you I’m worried about. I’ve been watching the news coverage since the concert. Sixth Street is a zoo.”

  I snorted. “You think I’ve been out clubbing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe? You’re not at the house. That’s a good sign.”

  My gaze wandered to the empty lot adjacent to the cluster of medical offices. To the spot where Brackenridge Medical had once stood. The city demolished the hospital over a year ago, but I could still see it clearly. Aging white facade. Rows of windows. And the roof with the helipad.

  “Listen, Miles,” Tori said, dragging me out of the past. “I have to go. But if you really have a problem with Daryl, give Taryn a call. She’s the one who assigned him. But try not to hurt her feelings. She went through a lot of trouble shuffling things around to make sure his schedule was clear for you.”

  “Taryn?”

  Why in the hell would Taryn care if I had security? She hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to me in years. Even after I’d apologized, she’d kept her distance. And I gave her that. Owed it to her.

  Oblivious to my turmoil, Tori snorted a little laugh. “Of course, Taryn. She handles all the security. But when it comes to you—your fan mail, your schedule, your safety—she’d take someone’s head off for trying to intervene. Even mine. And you damn well know it. Anyway…gotta run. Love you.”