Kiss the Stars

by Jackson, A. L.

  As my world shifted and shook.

  As my heart took on a new truth.

  I’d once questioned fate.

  Destiny.

  The idea of living each day thinking every event, conversation, and person that passed through our lives had been set on that path long before we even knew what direction we were headed.

  Carved in some proverbial stone eons before we were born.

  All coming together for the greater good.

  I’d scoffed.

  Mocked it.

  I looked down at Mia.

  Recognized the girl.

  My purpose.

  My reason.

  And I thought I saw Karma in my periphery smile before she turned and slipped out the door.

  I squeezed Mia’s hand, dropped my forehead back to hers. “You got me, Mia. You fucking got me. And that is my honest.”

  She smiled.

  Smiled her hope.

  Her joy.

  This girl filling me up with her love.

  She cupped my cheek. “And I’m never going to let you go.”

  Epilogue

  Leif

  We lay under the deepest night. A big blanket spread out on the lawn below us.

  Stars strewn on forever.

  Penny shrieked, pointed her finger. “There’s one.”

  A streaking light blazed through the sky.

  Arching and bright before it burned out.

  The meteor shower in full force.

  “I see it, Penny-Pie!” Greyson shouted, bouncing on his knees in excitement and pointing to where it had burned out. “It was a big one! Did you see it, Daddy? Did you see it?”

  My chest squeezed.

  So tight.

  Sometimes I wondered how it was possible that I could continue to breathe under the magnitude of it.

  The greatness of what had been given into my life.

  Healing breathed into my soul.

  I ruffled my fingers through his hair where he sat close to my side. “I saw it, buddy. It was a good one, wasn’t it?”

  Carson crawled over, planting his tiny hands on my chest, rocking on his knees. Slobber from his adorable smile dripping onto my shirt, the little guy getting his second tooth. “Hi, little buddy.”

  “I’m the big buddy, and he’s the little buddy, right?” Greyson asked, poking his head in between us, his shoulders coming up to his ears as he peered at his baby brother.

  “That’s right. My buddies.”

  My boys.

  My life.

  My love.

  Mia sat on the blanket with her knees hugged to her chest, that gorgeous face tipped toward the sky.

  River of black hair cascading down her back.

  She turned that tender gaze on us.

  Sable eyes flashing with all her love.

  Another meteorite went blazing through the sky.

  Mia lifted her hand.

  Cupped it beneath it.

  Her eyes closed. “There. I caught it.”

  The softest smile edged that seductive mouth when she looked back at me, my wife, my perfection.

  My completion.

  “Don’t ever let it go,” I murmured, not even caring that I was staring, that Penny was blushing the way she always did.

  “You should sing Mom her song, Dad. The one you wrote when you fell in love with her.”

  Yeah.

  She called me Dad, too.

  My little hopeless romantic who was growing up so fast.

  She’d struggled with the loss of Nixon the most. Something I’d warred with, too. We’d kept the sordid details from her as best as we could, but she was old enough for the shadow of him to cloud her.

  The wounds to scar and invade.

  But we loved her with everything. Held her through her hurt. Filled her with our love and our belief.

  I’d sat her down a couple months after and told her I was there for her, no matter what. She could think of me however she wanted to. As a friend or a protector or a parent. Told her she could call me anything she wanted. Well, except for Mr. Godwin, of course.

  She’d asked if it was okay if she called me Dad. She said dads were just like moms. They were supposed to be our favorite people in the world. They were supposed to take care of you. And she said that was what I did.

  And I was never going to stop—proving that devotion to her. To her mom. To her brothers.

  “Aren’t you all tired of hearing me play yet?”

  They’d been following Carolina George around as much as they could since Carson was old enough to travel, watching from backstage in the places they were allowed, waiting for me at whatever hotel we were staying at if they couldn’t.

  At my side, the same as I would forever be for them.

  Knew they couldn’t always do it.

  But we made it work.

  Just like Mia and I promised we would.

  But had to admit, I loved it when I was home, out in our backyard in the outskirts of Savannah where we could gaze up at the stars.

  Penny giggled. “Never.”

  Mia looked at me with those eyes, mouthed, “Never.”

  I grumbled, but I really didn’t mind, taking Carson with me as I stood to grab my guitar where it sat on a chair next to our snuffed-out fire.

  We’d done marshmallows and hot dogs earlier.

  A campout two steps from our quaint, perfect house.

  I set Carson back on his bottom, and he clapped when I sat down and situated the guitar on my lap.

  Was proud to play the drums with Carolina George as they shot into fame. My extended family who I was crazy proud of. Drumsticks one of my closest friends.

  But I didn’t complain all that much when I strummed a guitar.

  The medium didn’t matter. I just relished in the expression.

  To me, that was what music was.

  Beautiful. Brutal.

  Everything you couldn’t really say.

  I strummed the chords and I let the lyrics spin into the cool breeze of the night.

  I sang to my family, playing through the chords, the memories of the way I’d felt then.

  Terrified.

  Learning to hope again.

  Remembering what it meant.

  Penny rocked and gazed at the sky, while Greyson curled up at my side.

  The song trailed off, and I was looking at Mia.

  Lustdrunk.

  Lovestruck.

  My angel in the attic.

  A savior I thought the devil could never keep.

  But Mia?

  She had found the good in me.

  THE END

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Kiss the Stars!

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  A Stone in the Sea

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  About the Author

  A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.

  If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.

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  A Stone in the Sea Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  I drew in a thick, soggy breath, and my boots sank into the damp sand as I met the shoreline. Humidity clung to the dark, endless sky, a dense mist hugging the surface of the ocean that seethed in the night, a toiling mess of beauty and contradiction. I lifted my face to the stars that stretched on forever, an eternal canopy that seemed too low yet impossible to touch.

  Sometimes I wished I could reach through it to find all that had been lost.

  Lights shone from the huge house on the hill behind me, life stretching its fingers out into the shadows, seeking a way to connect with my spirit, just as the tide raced in as if to embrace me. To wrap me in its arms and pull me under.

  It didn’t matter what sea I brushed up against.

  He was always there.

  Waiting for me.

  I raised my arms out to my sides and welcomed him because I never wanted to let him go. Didn’t ever want to forget. Wind pounded at my face, the taste of salt and sea filling my senses, and I remembered exactly why I was here.

  What I was willing to protect, no matter the cost.

  One

  Sebastian

  Savannah. Fucking. Georgia.

  How the hell did I end up here?

  I propped my hand against the molding encasing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean from the house we were staying on Tybee Island. In the daylight, it appeared peaceful and serene, a gentle rush of the tide as it staked its claim up the bank, then slowly rolled back out to sea.

  “You okay?” Anthony asked from behind me.

  The rest of the guys were still asleep, but I finally gave up on trying to catch even a wink when the sun came up.

  I jerked my attention to where Anthony leaned up against the massive island in the center of the opulent kitchen. My brow got all twisted in an incredulous scowl, all of it directed at him. Anthony Di Pietro.

  Sunder’s agent, and one of the few people in this world who I actually liked.

  Even though I couldn’t look at him right now without feeling pissy and annoyed. This was the guy I trusted with the three things in this world that were important to me—my band, the guys in it, and my baby brother.

  “No, I’m not okay. There’s not one fucking thing okay with this, Anthony. Can they even do this?”

  His shoulders lifted to his ears, and he puffed out a heavy breath with a slow shake of his head. “They can do whatever they want. They own you, Baz.”

  I bit off a bitter laugh. All my life I’d worked to make sure no one owned me. I’d thought it’d be music that would set me free. Then I’d just turned around and sold my soul to the devil.

  “You know nothing right now is definitive,” he continued. “It might be another warning, but you and I both know we’re running out of strings to pull. You all made the right choice, coming here.”

  Turning around, I raked a hand over my face. “Still can’t get my head around this shit.”

  Guilt got all messed up with the aggression I’d dealt with my entire life. The two combined were enough to strangle me. Yet another fucking disaster I’d gotten myself into. Only this time it affected everyone. But what was I supposed to do? Let that pompous asshole get away with what he’d done?

  Hell no.

  My chin took on a defiant set when I looked at Anthony. “I won’t apologize for what I did.”

  He was a good guy, mid-forties, three kids he adored, a wife he adored more. Not many people had that kind of integrity in this industry.

  Hell, not many people had that kind of integrity at all.

  “I’m not asking you to. You think I don’t know why you did it?” he asked, his voice coated with empathy, and I knew in my gut the guy completely understood. He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes to prove a point. “But do you really want to broadcast that to the rest of the world?”

  I attempted to swallow around the lump wedged at the base of my throat. “No.”

  He pushed off the island and began to pace, his dress shoes echoing on the marble floor. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to put enough pressure on this guy to drop the charges, but in the meantime, you guys need to take advantage of the quiet. Write some music…do some recording. That’s why you’re here. You don’t have to think of it as any other reason.”

  Looking to the high ceiling, I rubbed under my jaw, trying to keep my shit together. Right. Like this was just some kind of awesome retreat. Like we weren’t here hiding away at Anthony’s seaside mansion when we were supposed to be on our way to France for the start of our European tour.

  Scheduling conflicts.

  That’s what we’d tweeted to the world to announce the cancellation.

  And our fans were pissed.

  No, we weren’t the biggest band in the world. Our style was too dark and gritty and loud for the mainstream airways, but we had a huge-ass following, our shows selling out city after city, our songs downloaded at a rate that blew my mind.

  We played and people listened.

  But now even that was being threatened.

  When I got slapped with assault charges and they yanked the tour sponsorship, Anthony had convinced us to come here. The bottom floor had a state-of-the-art recording studio, plus Anthony figured the place was so secluded and we were so far away from L.A., there was little chance of anyone recognizing us.

  The rest of the guys knew why we were here.

  Austin didn’t.

  The last thing he needed was another cross to bear.

  Anthony pulled on his suit jacket, straightened his tie. “All of you just need to lie low for the next few weeks. Fitzgerald doesn’t want you anywhere in the public eye. Not until Mylton Records decides if they’re going to pull the label or not.”

  “Thought they ate up the punked-out drama.” It was all a sneer.

  It was good for image. That’s what that greedy bastard Fitzgerald had said when he signed us, practically salivating at the mouth when he found out I had a record about ten miles long, and not the music kind.

  Anthony curled up his own sarcastic grin. “Oh, you know how the saying goes, Baz…it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. You start
beating on industry execs and the industry is going to take note.”

  Yeah, and I’d do it again. Without hesitation. I’d always protect my own just like I always had. Scum like Jennings didn’t deserve their next breath.

  “You know this band has taken on a lot of heat, Baz. First your father, then Mark, and now this.”

  I tried not to flinch with the impact of hearing Mark’s name, but it was there, like a bolt of fiery lightning. I ground my teeth against the pain. Couldn’t even begin to go there. Not yet.

  It was too raw.

  Too fucking raw.

  After Julian, I knew that kind of wound didn’t heal.

  On an exhale, Anthony set an almost pleading expression on his face, like he knew whatever he was getting ready to say was going to be met with resistance. “Just do what I ask for once, Baz. Stay here and pretend like this is exactly where you want to be.”

  This was the last place I wanted to be.

  My voice was hard. “I’ve never run from shit I have to face.”

  “You’re right, my friend. You just run the opposite direction…head first into it with fists flying. You need to take a step back and rein yourself in. I mean, God, Baz, you beat an executive producer to within an inch of his life.” He took a step forward and set his hand on my shoulder. “I know you, and I know all of this is killing you. But you’ve always stood up for everyone else in your life. It’s time you stood up for yourself and took some time to deal with what’s going on inside of you. Because if you don’t? You’re going to end up losing everything that’s important to you and there won’t be a damned thing in this world I can do to stop it.”

  My guts got all tied up in a hundred knots and nausea coiled in my stomach.