by Eden Summers
“Don’t get angry. Kids bicker all the time.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not Tyler and Sophie. They never fight. Unless you’ve been keeping that from me, too.”
Ryan sighed. “I haven’t been keeping anything from you. He just started slinking around the house, and when I asked him about it, he told me they were fighting.”
“And what did you say?”
He shrugged. “I said, ‘okay.’”
“Okay?” Her eyes bugged. “Did you at least ask him if he was all right?”
“Sure, I did. He said he was fine.”
She bit her tongue and turned to face the passenger window. Fine was not an appropriate answer. Everybody knew that. Everybody except her husband.
“He’s almost eighteen, Leah. If he’s struggling, he needs to learn to ask for help.”
But who would he ask for help when both his parents were touring the country without him for three months? After all these years, Reckless still couldn’t be trusted to have their manager work off-site. She needed to stick right up their ass in an effort to contain the dramatics, which meant the upcoming tour could be a problem.
Making plans for Tyler to stay with Alana and her teenage kids, Beth and Chase, for a few nights a week wouldn’t be enough. Her son would still be alone for the majority of the time. Self-sufficiency only went so far when you were a teenager living on your own.
“Stop thinking about it,” Ryan warned. “I know exactly what’s going on in that mind of yours.”
“Then you should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve been able to prepare.”
“For what? One little fight with Sophie doesn’t instigate teenage Armageddon. I bet they’re best friends again by the end of the weekend.”
She didn’t reply. Hypothetical hope wasn’t her thing. She liked evidence and proof. And the current evidence of a heartbroken boy in the back seat was proof enough that her son was far from fine. “What if things aren’t fixed by the end of the weekend? What then? I don’t want to leave him home alone if he’s struggling to deal with—”
“With a teenage fight? You’re going to quit the tour because of something that is probably a silly argument?”
She shot a warning look at her husband for the rising volume of his voice. In return, he clutched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.
“You’re already flying back and forth each week to keep an eye on him,” he grated. “You’ve also got your spies on the payroll.”
“The cleaner and the cook aren’t really spy material.”
“Leah,” he pleaded. “You need to let this go. He’s a great kid. If he’s going through something, I’m sure he’ll tell us if he needs help.”
She leaned against her window and stared down at the miles of passing highway as maternal instinct tightened her chest.
Every day she questioned whether she should’ve become a stay-at-home mom once Tyler was born. At first, her drive for success had made it hard to quit. She also couldn’t stand the thought of someone else taking over while Reckless embarked on their new indie adventure. Then, later, she couldn’t leave because they needed her help establishing their own label.
She’d bought into the company.
She’d become even less of a mother.
And through it all, Tyler had never seemed to mind.
Or maybe he had and she just hadn’t noticed.
“Stop placing guilt on yourself.” Ryan grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers. “The next two days are about drinking and relaxation. Don’t let it go to waste.”
She released a sardonic laugh. “The next two days are about you and the guys putting shit on each other while us women try to distract the kids from your shenanigans. There’s no relaxation in sight as far as I’m concerned.”
“Then maybe you and the ladies should start some shenanigans of your own. The kids aren’t babies anymore. They can look after themselves and do their own thing.”
“I think I’m too old for shenanigans.” Her forties had come and gone way too fast. Along with a lot of things in her life, like her sanity. “I’ll stick to the wine and conversation.”
“Suit yourself. But remember the rules. Everything else has to slide for the weekend. No stress. No guilt. The next two days are about us detoxing from all the crap.”
“Agreed.” She squeezed his fingers. “And I’m not going to ask him how things are going with Sophie.”
Ryan nodded. “That’s a good decision.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” She smiled at him. “Because that’s going to be your job.”
Chapter Two
Sean walked across the manicured gardens of the Deep Creek Lake vacation house toward Mason and Sidney. They climbed from their decked-out SUV, making their way to the trunk. “Need a hand?”
Mason poked his head out from behind the car and pointed toward the back seat. “You can tell the little fuckstick in the car that he can stay in there until he’s ready to apologize for acting like an asscake.”
“Hey,” Sidney warned. “You can’t call Ethan names like that.”
“I didn’t call him names,” Mason snarled through clenched teeth. “I just said he was acting like an asscake. I didn’t point out that he is one.”
Sidney hitched her handbag higher on her shoulder and sighed. “Mason, you called him a fuckstick.”
The Reckless Beat front man paused, his hand on the suitcase in the trunk as he stared into the distance. “Oh…yeah, you’re right. My bad.” He yanked the case to the pebbled ground and slammed the trunk. “How you doin’, man?”
Mason came forward, luggage rolling at his side, and greeted Sean with a shoulder bump and a pat on the back.
“Good.” He reciprocated the gesture. “I gather the drive was rough.”
“Tough as nails, motherfucker. Aren’t you glad you don’t have kids?” Mason strode for the house, not waiting for an answer.
His best friend’s beautiful songstress wife approached next, coming forward to wrap her arms around Sean. “It was five hours of me playing referee to their arguments. They’re both as stubborn as each other.”
“Must be a full moon tonight, because Blake is having the same issues with the girls.” He kissed her forehead. “Want me to chat and subtly tell him to wake up to himself?”
“Which one—my husband or child?” She snorted. “They both need that talk.”
“I lost hope for Mason twenty years ago.” He grinned. “But I can give it a shot with the devil’s spawn.”
She hugged him tighter. “That would be great. He usually listens to you.”
The back door of the car flung open, and the scowling teenager slid out, his dark hair spiked and black jeans ripped in more places than not. He stalked toward the wall of trees at the edge of the yard, in the exact opposite direction to his father.
Sidney retreated a step and sighed again, her face holding the wrinkles of a tired parent.
“Don’t worry.” He nudged her elbow. “I’ll follow him.”
She gave a sad smile. “Thank you. If you don’t come back in ten minutes, I’ll alert the authorities.”
He laughed and started after the not-so-little brat. “In that case, make sure you take care of Red for me.”
He reached the towering tree line and continued into the shadows. Twigs and leaves crunched under his feet. Long grass scratched at his jeans. “Hey, tour guide, I don’t think this is the right track.”
Ethan kept hustling, breaking off low branches before throwing them to the ground.
“Hey.” Sean jumped over a log and jogged to catch up. “Want to talk about it?”
“About what?” The kid stopped, turned, and met Sean with a hazel-eyed glare. “How my parentals are driving me batshit crazy? My dad is a hemorrhoid-infested asshole.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
The kid wasn’t much of a kid anymore. The mischief-maker seemed to have grown half a foot already this year and had an even deeper voice than
he did last month.
“He won’t let me concentrate on my music.” Ethan pulled a clump of leaves off a sapling and waved them around for emphasis. “Everything has to be done his way. Always. I can never try anything on my own.”
“Have you told him your plans? If you explain what you want and why you want it, I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“I’ve told him every day for the last ten years.” Ethan threw the leaves to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. “He says I have to finish school first.”
No shit, dirtbag. “Yeah… Well, I can’t say I disagree.”
The glare increased. “Even when I’m failing all my subjects? I hate school. It bores me to death, but he wants me to keep going, even when I’ve got labels busting a nut to sign me.”
“Busting a nut, eh?” Sean whistled.
Labels were only interested due to the blood flowing through this kid’s veins. The child prodigy had musical success running through his DNA. Sidney had taught him how to weave lyrics from the moment she’d started singing to him as a newborn, while Mason had concentrated on rounding his talent, organizing lessons at an early age on anything from guitar to piano to vocal training.
The kid knew it all.
Just ask him. He’d tell you how awesome he was, no holds barred.
“There’s more to being successful than musical talent. You need business skills and strategies. You should trust your dad. He knows what it’s all about.”
“My dad is only interested in remaining top dog.” Ethan lowered his gaze and kicked at the underbrush. “He’s threatened by me.”
“Threatened?” Sean held back a laugh. Mason Lynch had never been threatened by anyone. Except maybe Sidney. That woman had a massive set of balls. “I don’t think you truly believe that.”
“Then why won’t he let me sign with Grander? They’re bending over backward to blow me—”
“Whoa.” Sean held up a hand. “For starters, I can’t hold a conversation with you if it involves busted nuts and blow jobs. If you want to talk business, talk like you know your shit. Stop acting like an immature twerp.”
Ethan straightened and raised his chin. “I know what I’m talking about. I can make it big. Nothing will stop me.”
“I know. And so does your dad. But he doesn’t want you to be a teen sensation who fades into obscurity by the time you reach your twenties. Do you know all the times Grander fucked us over when Reckless was at the top of the charts?” Sean had spent more than half his life as the drummer for the chart-topping band, and each and every one of those years had passed with growing animosity toward the label who originally signed them.
“No. All he’s done is show me an old thirty-page contract and told me to read it and highlight the warning bells as a ‘learning experience.’” The kid used his fingers for air quotes.
“He’s proving to you that you’re not ready. You’re going to sign a shit-ton of contracts, son. And, believe me, they’ll fuck you over in the fine print. Just ask your Aunt Leah. She couldn’t even date Uncle Ryan because of the legalities. Your dad, is the best person to sign with, by far. He doesn’t want your money. He only wants you to succeed. Same goes for me and your uncles.” He waited for an acknowledgement. Nothing came. “Look, your dad idolizes you. He’s supported your future since the moment you were born. He wants you to not only take his limelight, but to burst that fucking globe. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”
Ethan kicked at the ground again. “He hasn’t even mentioned signing with him. I don’t think he wants me on your label.”
Another laugh escaped as he threw a soft jab to the kid’s shoulder. “My man, if you sign with anyone else, your dad would be devastated. I’m talking completely heartbroken and in need of counseling.”
Ethan raised his gaze, his eyes turning devious, his mouth kicking up on one side. “Are you for real?”
Oh, fuck. The little prick was banking this as ammunition.
It was Sean’s turn to scowl. “I’m for real when I say I’ll break your fingers if you ever use that information against him. Your dad is right. You’re too young. This shitty attitude of yours will get you chewed up and spit out by the paparazzi. You’d last six months, at best.”
The conniving expression left Ethan’s face. “I’m sick of sitting on my hands. Ya know? I’ve already got a million followers on my YouTube channel and more on Instagram. People love me. They want more.”
“Buddy, I’m going to give it to you straight.” He grabbed Ethan’s shoulder and held his gaze. “They only found you because of your parents. They only love you because your mom is the best songwriter in the business and your father is a musical legend. They—”
The kid yanked his shoulder away, his jaw tight. “Fuck you, Uncle Sean.”
“Hey, let me finish. I—”
“Nah, I’m done,” Ethan snipped. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I’m sick of listening to you fossils. Do me a favor and tell my parents I’ve gone to the lake.”
He stomped away, taking a sharp left toward the water hidden somewhere behind the trees.
Fuckity fuck.
Mason would be delighted to know Sean threw more lighter fluid on the already combustible teen. If his best buddy wasn’t furious already, he sure would be once he ran into his son again.
This teenage stuff was a whole new ballgame.
Sean blew out a deep breath and headed for the house. Melody met him at the edge of the tree line, her lithe dancer body just as tempting as it had been when they first met.
“Good talk?” she asked.
“Horrible talk, Red.” He reached for her, pulling her into his side as they continued toward the huge monstrosity of a vacation home. “I’ve never been more relieved we didn’t have kids.”
She stiffened under his arm. Not a huge shift in position. Only miniscule. Slight enough for his heartrate to increase.
He clutched her tighter to his side and inwardly berated his stupidity. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
They remained quiet, her posture tight until they reached the deck bordering the first floor of the mansion.
“I shouldn’t have made a joke.” He turned to her, seeing the fake smile she used in a vain attempt to divert attention from her glassy eyes.
“Forget it. You know these trips always bring out the worst in me.”
He swept back the loose hair from her face. Damn, he loved her. Even more now than he had when things had been casual and easy. “Not the worst. Only the best.”
She released a half-hearted chuckle. “Not true.”
He dropped his hand to her chin, holding tight. “It is true. You’re the best godmother those little fuckers could ever have. They love you.”
“And I love them. It’s just hard sometimes. I’m getting older and…” She sighed. “I’m just unsettled.”
She still yearned to be a mom.
It took years to accept they couldn’t conceive on their own. Both of them were pros at trying to make a baby, but apparently, neither of them had the fertility to produce the end result.
They’d tried it all.
Even contemplated adoption. In the end, nothing felt like a good enough consolation prize compared to holding a bundle they had made together.
“Once we get home, I want us to rethink foster care.”
Whoa.
He stepped back and clutched the railing behind him. Foster care no longer inspired giddy feelings of potential parental bliss like it had before their first attempt. How could it when bringing a kid into their home had almost ended their marriage?
They’d been assigned a teenager to look after, when they hadn’t even known the first thing about parenting.
Olivia, the stick-thin sixteen-year-old had turned up on their doorstep. Her bright blue eyes had been wide, her fine blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She’d seemed sweet at first. Quiet and shy. Then the disobedience had started. She wouldn’t go to school, wouldn’t sh
ow up for dinner. Some nights, she didn’t even come home.
It didn’t take long for things to go missing—money, instruments, jewelry.
When Red searched Olivia’s room, she found drugs. Recreational and medicinal. Along with a stash of money and a heap of Melody’s clothes.
Things went downhill from there.
“Red,” he pleaded. “Sweetheart, we’ve been over this.”
“We only tried once. And we had no clue about teenagers back then.” She implored him with her eyes. “We know better now. For years, I’ve looked after all those kids out there.” She flung an arm toward the door. “They’ve probably spent more time sleeping over at our house than they have with their friends. We know them. We know what it’s like.”
No. They only knew snippets. But there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for this woman. “It’s not about knowing better. It’s about the risk of losing you. Olivia almost broke us. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”
She shook her head. “We’re stronger now. We’re settled. We’ve got money. We’ve got a big property. We have a great support network who can talk us through any struggles. And if we get another teenager, they’ll already have an established group of friends to make them feel at home.”
“Hey. I get it.” He grabbed her wrist, trying to calm her rambling while ignoring his pain at not being enough for her. He’d thought she’d gotten over this. He’d stupidly assumed the menagerie of animals at their house had filled the void. “We’ll talk it through once the weekend is over.”
“Really?”
Jesus. There went his heart. With her one pleaded question, he knew there was no stopping the upcoming rollercoaster. “If it’s what you want, then, yeah. We’ll figure out how to make it work. We’ll prepare better.”
She sucked in a shuddering breath, and this time her smile was pure and big and bright. “Thank you.”
“I’m not the gatekeeper here, Red. We make decisions together, okay? If you need something, you have to tell me.”
