Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  I always get lost in your lips,

  And my world, my heart

  Is yours to twist.

  It was a song she hadn’t heard in a long time. One she’d recorded on her first album.

  Shit, it felt like a million years ago.

  One of the rare songs she’d written herself that had been green-lighted by the studio.

  Also, one of the last times she even tried to put her own work out there.

  It had never been an audience favorite.

  To be fair, it had a different sound to the rest of her stuff. It was more introspective and deeply personal.

  Having it rejected en masse had been enough to teach Hannah that her heart wouldn’t get her what she wanted.

  But her ambition would.

  And it did.

  Her ambition also got her herpes.

  But that was another thing entirely.

  The song finished and the busker fluttered his overly thick eyelashes at her with a small smirk.

  Now was the part where she would slip a few dollars into the guitar case.

  And she would.

  In a second.

  “Interesting song choice,” Hannah remarked flatly.

  The young man’s eyes sharpened on her, and the skin around his mouth tightened as he looked her over.

  She wasn’t worried about being recognized.

  It hadn’t happened in ages and she had done a fairly decent job at changing her trademark “look.” The fact that she was mostly covered, even wearing glasses when she didn’t need them, definitely helped her feel bolder.

  Though engaging a musician in a conversation about one of her own songs put her at a certain risk and her heart quickened.

  Oh boy.

  That felt good.

  It was a small shot of adrenaline in a body she had been keeping as bored as possible.

  A bland routine. A life with no surprises. That’s what she had successfully designed and maintained.

  “You know it?” the busker asked with a suspicious tilt of his head.

  “A forgettable song on a forgettable album,” she responded.

  She wanted to tell him that his rendition was world-shifting. That his style and spark were fresh and bright, and she could make a phone call and change his life.

  But she wasn’t going to do any of those things.

  Because more than his life would change.

  And Hannah had priorities.

  He huffed a harsh laugh and shook his head, his long bangs swinging into his eyes. He pushed them back with one hand. “Disagree.”

  He held her eyes unflinching but didn’t expound on his opinion.

  Hannah’s lips twisted to the side as she tried to fight the smile creeping into her expression. She dropped a five into his case and pursed her lips.

  “Get some better material, kid.” She lifted her chin and walked away.

  When she hit the steps, she heard his clear voice singing the song again.

  Little shit.

  Hannah snorted a laugh and jogged up the steps to the street.

  Now she had a story to tell Piper at dinner.

  But first she had to hurry to her clandestine meeting before her contact thought something had happened to her and called in reinforcements.

  The doors to the elevator slid open revealing one Alex Greene.

  He had a laptop balanced on one hand while he used the other hand to type and scroll rapidly.

  He glanced up through thick eyebrows and even thicker black glasses.

  Hannah’s gaze bounced from him to the intimidating man taking up the other corner of the elevator.

  “Gentlemen,” she greeted, stepping inside.

  Quinn Sullivan pressed the button to close the doors.

  The elevator moved smoothly between floors for a few seconds before Quinn hit the emergency stop and the lift came to a halt with a bounce.

  This was their chosen office, their meeting place, their secret tree house.

  Quinn had an actual office with real security in a high-rise with all the bells and whistles.

  But when Hannah had first met with him nearly two years ago, she’d felt overly exposed in the shiny building with all the windows.

  He’d compromised and they’d moved their meeting places all around the city until he’d convinced her to move into the building he owned (and also lived in). That’s when the service elevator had been employed as their new office.

  It had been Alex’s idea.

  Something about the heavy, reinforced steel, and the obscure location making it “safer” than meeting out in the open.

  His paranoia was reassuring to Hannah, who had been afraid she had been taking it too far.

  But nothing compared to how Alex Greene operated in his day-to-day life. And because of that, she knew she could trust him to keep her invisible.

  “Two things showed up this week in my search that I thought should be addressed,” Alex started right in without saying hi or even nodding in her direction. Again, another trait she appreciated.

  He turned the laptop screen to face her.

  “Your name appeared in a writing credit in the Double Blind Study box set scheduled to release next year. So far, it’s caused minimal waves in the fan chats. Most people hate you too much to care where you are.”

  Hannah shrugged, because, no shit.

  And leave it to Luke Casey, her ex and lead singer of the famous rock band, to remind her of a time in her life where she had tried and failed in spectacular fashion.

  She knew without Alex telling her what song it was.

  She and Luke had written it together in the early days, before all the fuckery.

  “It’s for something called…‘Somewhat Alive’ and the band has asked you to rerecord your vocals for that.

  “Also, for some reason your name was listed as a topic for a behind-the-scenes episode on a web series that launched last month. The episode has not been given an airdate, but the title is ‘Where Are They Now?’”

  “Huh?” she asked.

  He turned the laptop back around and clicked rapidly while speaking. “From what I’ve been able to find, it doesn’t seem that they actually know where you are, but they’re using your image as clickbait.”

  Hannah shook her head in an attempt to straighten out the information that had been fired at her.

  Clickbait wasn’t a new tactic. And Alex’s instincts were usually spot-on for things such as this, so she trusted him that it wasn’t anything else.

  But the vocals on the DBS track?

  “What do you want to do about Double Blind Study thing?” Alex asked without looking up from his screen. “So far, the official stance has been that you don’t really do that anymore. I had Sandra pose as Melanie, your personal assistant, in case anyone asks. She told them no, but they’ve continued to send emails and call the dead line.”

  The dead line was one of the first things Alex had set up for her. It was exactly what it sounded like: a phone number that went nowhere. That and a vague email address were all that remained of her previous career.

  No publicist, no manager, no entourage.

  Just her and these two weirdos in an elevator.

  Her gaze bounced between Quinn and Alex.

  “What if I want to think about it for a minute?” As the words left her mouth, she felt rather than saw Alex’s disappointed scowl. He loved to say no to people obsessed with their own self-importance.

  Alex stopped typing and leveled her with his intense stare. “What’s there to think about?”

  So. Much.

  But all that came out was, “It’s complicated.”

  Alex’s scowl deepened, and he opened his mouth to say something when Quinn got there first.

  “Think about it for a couple of days and get back to us.”

  She nodded her thanks and pressed her lips together. If they were waiting for her to open up and share any of those complications, they were going to be in that elevator for a long time. />
  Quinn must’ve sensed that because he tilted his head slightly and rocked back on his heels. “How’s the job going?”

  “Boring. Just like I wanted,” she replied with a smirk.

  He studied her with his all-seeing gaze and she fought the urge to look away.

  “Maybe you should think about getting a hobby,” he suggested after a beat.

  This was Quinn’s way of saying he cared. He got bossy.

  Which was honestly adorable.

  Add his dangerous good looks and driven personality and Hannah would be all about rearranging some of her current priorities.

  But Quinn was happily head over elbows in love with his wife. He was also very protective of her, which was probably why even though they lived in the same building, Hannah had never seen her. Which added to his appeal in a very different way.

  “Yeeaahh,” she drew out with a thoughtful squint. “The last time I had a hobby, I tried to recreate the Sistine Chapel on the ceiling of my very expensive New York City apartment.”

  “I didn’t know you were a painter,” Alex remarked. “How did it turn out?”

  “Well, since I’m not a painter and just an ambitious alcoholic, not well.”

  Alex barked a laugh and quickly silenced himself.

  Hannah smirked.

  “Alcoholism isn’t a hobby,” Quinn reprimanded coolly.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I was trying to be funny about it.”

  Quinn’s lips twitched and he disengaged the emergency stop. The elevator began moving, bringing their secret rendezvous to a close.

  Hannah’s eyes flicked over Alex’s knit cap that adorned his head. She’d seen it before but always failed to ask about it.

  “I like your hat,” she said, a strange feeling circling in her chest with the small compliment.

  “Thanks. My wife made it for me. She knits.” A slight blush touched Alex’s cheeks.

  “Hmm,” Hannah remarked as the lift came to a stop at her floor. “Maybe I’ll take up knitting. That’s a safe hobby, right?”

  “He’s the killer.”

  “Who?”

  “The building manager.”

  “No way.”

  Hannah shrugged and shoved a forkful of noodles into her mouth.

  It was Stir-Friday. Sesame chicken and Hawaii 5-0.

  Another part of the routine.

  But truth be told, probably Hannah’s favorite.

  It was the one night a week where she didn’t make Piper do her homework and they had “family time.”

  How weird was it that Hannah had a set routine let alone a designated “family night?”

  Super weird.

  Eighteen months ago, she would have never predicted this.

  How could she?

  But here they were.

  She glanced to the end of the couch where the twelve-year-old sat curled up, devouring her own bowl of noodles and stir-fry.

  Even though the run-in with the busker singing one of her songs had set off a flurry of memories and “what-ifs” throughout the evening, nothing in the world could get Hannah to change what she’d gained all those months ago.

  Piper dropped her fork in the bowl with a gasp. She turned her wide eyes on Hannah—striking blue eyes that matched Hannah’s own. “How did you know?”

  Hannah chuckled but didn’t reply.

  “Whatever. One of these days I’m gonna figure out how you’re cheating, and then we’ll see who the smart one is,” Piper grumbled without any real ire.

  “Not cheating. I’m just that good,” Hannah teased with a single shoulder shrug.

  Piper sighed and stood up. “Is there more?”

  “Yep.” Hannah nodded. “Made extra. Thought you might be hungry tonight.” She watched the preteen shuffle into the kitchen of their luxury apartment.

  At first, the swanky accommodations had been a source of contention between them.

  Piper had been raised in a lower income home and she wasn’t used to high-end living. She had thrown it in Hannah’s face multiple times a day for those first few months.

  But Hannah couldn’t risk their security just to make the young girl more comfortable.

  It was an unfortunate but expected residue of her previous life.

  Still, Hannah compromised in all the places she could. The décor was modest, even minimal. Clothes, shoes, accessories were as middle-class as she dared. Piper had her own mobile phone, but it was a basic design. There was only one computer in the home and it was used in a shared living space.

  Hannah had learned as much as she could from parenting blogs and books recommended to her by their family therapist.

  Was she doing it right?

  Probably not.

  But she was trying as hard as she could.

  And that had to count for something.

  She hoped.

  She hoped so hard some days she was positive that her hope was the only thing getting her to the next day.

  “How was practice today?” Hannah asked.

  Piper had decided to join the basketball team at her new school.

  Hannah wasn’t a “sports person,” but she didn’t try to discourage the younger girl from doing something she was interested in.

  “It was okay.” Piper returned to the couch and frowned at the floor as she thought.

  Hannah waited, having learned that as soon as Piper sorted through her thoughts, she’d share. But pressuring her often meant Piper second-guessing herself and internalizing too much.

  As the only parental figure in Piper’s life, Hannah was bound and determined to be a positive one. Which was why she’d been going to both family counseling and individual therapy for a year. And would continue to go indefinitely.

  Because if she failed at this guardian gig, it wasn’t going to be from lack of trying.

  She would try the fuck out of it.

  With everything she had.

  “The other girls don’t seem to like me that much,” Piper finally confessed.

  Hannah swallowed, a heavy weight settling in her stomach.

  Her first instinct was to ask her if she wanted her to “fuck ’em up.”

  But that probably wasn’t good advice for anyone and especially not a seventh-grader.

  But most especially, not Piper.

  Piper was good and clean and pure and nothing like her older sister.

  They shared nearly identical facial features—same dark, nearly black hair, pouty lips, high cheekbones, severe blue eyes, thick eyelashes, perpetually sun-kissed cheeks. But where Hannah’s body was that of a fully formed (and enhanced) woman, Piper was gangly and flat-chested—puberty having decided to wait a little while.

  More than likely due to the emotional stress of the past couple of years.

  Which was another contributing factor to Hannah’s determination to make Piper’s life as secure and stable as possible.

  Still, Piper was a gorgeous girl.

  And being pretty in middle school had its drawbacks.

  Especially when it was paired with a sweetness like Piper’s.

  Misplaced jealousy could make girls be horrible. And Hannah knew that from experience.

  But not from Piper’s side, from the horrible side.

  Hannah wasn’t sure what to say in this situation. Then Piper turned those blue eyes on her, wide and worried.

  “I just wish I could make a friend, you know? Just one.”

  Hannah bit her bottom lip and quickly set her bowl aside. She opened her arms to the younger girl and Piper crawled across the couch to settle against her big sister. She curled into Hannah’s side and fixed her eyes on the television and continued to eat her dinner.

  Hannah wrapped one arm around Piper and stroked her dark hair back as she pressed her lips to Piper’s temple.

  “Oh, beautiful girl,” Hannah murmured. “I wish that for you too.”

  Piper deserved a happy life with beauty and good friends.

  She didn’t deserve Hannah Lee
James, formerly Ashton James, as a guardian.

  But here they were.

  JOHNNY

  “You’re late.”

  The front door closed with a slam.

  “I know,” Shawn sighed. “It was a choice.”

  Johnny Enamorado Torres smirked at his little brother’s reply and flipped the pancake.

  Perfect.

  Just like the last two.

  “Pancakes for dinner?” Shawn questioned as he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Is this one of those things I’m not supposed to tell Mrs. Grayson?”

  “Tell her whatever you like,” Johnny replied. “But if she takes you away from me, there won’t be any studio time in your future.”

  Not that it mattered. The seventeen-year-old would be eighteen in less than a month. So Mrs. Grayson could suck it at this point.

  But still, just the mention of their assigned social worker had his stomach trying to tie itself in knots.

  Mrs. Grayson was a decent enough person. But she represented a system that hadn’t exactly made their family life easy.

  Johnny was looking forward to putting that part of their lives firmly behind them.

  The silence that followed his statement had him looking over his shoulder to see if Shawn had heard him.

  The younger man stood with his mouth agape, arms lax at his sides.

  Yeah, he’d heard him.

  “You got it? It’s finalized?” Shawn finally asked. “All the papers have been signed?”

  Johnny took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of pride and terror in his chest, pushed it aside, and kept his voice steady.

  “Why do you think we’re having pancakes—oof!”

  He was slammed in the back with Shawn’s hug.

  Johnny closed his eyes as his lips curved into a smile. Hugs from this kid had always hit him much deeper. All the way into his heart, a part of him he only felt when Shawn was involved. His soul, maybe?

  It was warm and huge and powerful.

  And it made Johnny feel blessed.

  Not #blessed.

  But as if a power higher and greater than any in this world had looked at him for a moment and he’d found favor.

  He cleared the emotion from his throat. “Set the table for me, would ya?”

  Shawn chuckled and let him go, moving toward the dishwasher. He began unloading the dishes they’d need to eat.