“You’re not attracted.”
“You’re a very attractive man, Charlie. You are, but I just don’t have those feelings for you. You’re more like a brother to me.”
He stood. “Okay. I can’t make you have feelings you don’t have. But if you change your mind, I’ll always be here.”
He walked out the door.
She knew she’d done the right thing, but she didn’t take his offer lightly, and seeing him walk out made her all the more aware of just how alone she was.
***
That evening, Rayne sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of soup. Her father was still at the diner, like he was most nights, and she ate alone.
The soup was a leftover he’d brought home last night. Business at the diner was down, too, and she knew her father was struggling financially. She couldn’t look to him for help with the business.
With things the way they were at the shop, she’d taken a big pay cut, reducing her salary to minimum wage so she could put the money toward the loan payment instead. It made things hard at home, and she’d really had to tighten her belt. Living with her father in the old three-bedroom Victorian house helped. But the place needed repairs, and her father didn’t have money to make them. The roof was in bad shape, the plumbing leaked, and the furnace was on its last leg.
She’d cut back as much as she could at home, clipping coupons, scaling back on groceries, and shopping at the resale shop for maternity clothes that she’d hidden away because she hadn’t told her father yet. Things looked grim, and she knew they would only get worse. Now she only had to buy prenatal vitamins, but once the baby came, there’d be so much more she’d need to buy. Diapers alone would be a strain.
She took her bowl of soup and walked into the small living room, flipping on the television to get her mind off her problems.
An entertainment show came on, talking about the latest superhero movie premiering that weekend. Another thing she couldn’t afford. The story switched, and Rayne was suddenly looking at one of the hosts interviewing Rory on a tour bus.
He looked handsome, dressed in a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing his tattoos and what looked like an expensive flashy watch. There he sat in all the trappings of his fame and success while she sat here eating warmed over soup, wondering how she was going to make ends meet.
Resentment flared through her at the unfairness of it all. He’d never responded to her letter, and she had been crushed. Somewhere deep down inside her, she’d wanted him to step up, wanted him to come and tell her it had all been a misunderstanding, that he’d lost her number or something. But she knew that was all a fairytale. He’d had no more interest in her than the one night they’d spent together. It shocked her in some ways, because that wasn’t the type of person she’d thought he was, especially to turn his back on his child? She’d never have imagined he’d be that way. Just goes to show how little she really knew the man.
She could go to Brothers Ink, make a scene, tell his family how she was knocked up by him, but she’d be damned if she’d beg for his help or for him to be involved in this baby’s life. No way! Not a chance! She’d rather scrimp and struggle and do the best she could than beg for help.
But she felt so vulnerable right now, and didn’t her baby deserve a better life than that?
She thought again of Charlie’s offer. If she accepted, she knew he’d move heaven and earth to give her a good life. If the shop closed, and he was forced to find another job, she knew he’d have one before the week was out. He’d be a good provider; she knew that in her heart.
Perhaps it was time she put her wants and dreams aside and thought of her child instead. Her baby would definitely have a good life with Charlie as a father. He was a good man, principled, caring, and easy-going. He would never cheat on her, he would never give her reason to doubt him, they would never argue or fight, and she knew instinctively he would be a wonderful father.
She bit her lip, wondering if she should reconsider his offer.
Chapter Nineteen
Rory caught an Uber out to the farm, arriving just as the sun set. His flight had been long, and he was tired. He grabbed his duffle bag and guitar case and walked up the porch steps. No one knew he was coming, and although this was still his home, he almost felt like he needed to knock. But family didn’t knock, so he opened the door and walked in. “Hello.”
He set his bag and guitar down.
Sounds drifted from the kitchen in the back of the house so he headed that way. He could smell dinner cooking and hear laughter as he walked down the hall. He entered the kitchen and found Jameson leaning against the counter, his arms folded. He was the first to see him standing there. “Rory! What are you doing here?”
Maxwell turned from the refrigerator, and Mrs. Larsen turned from the stove where she was stirring something delicious smelling in a pan.
“Why, hello, Rory.”
Malee was feeding her baby daughter who sat in a highchair. Across the table was ten-year old Ben shoveling macaroni and cheese into his mouth. The perfect little family.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on tour?” Max asked, his demeanor stiff. Rory knew why; he’d made an ass of himself when his brothers had come out to see him in Portland.
“I, ah, finished the last leg. The European tour doesn’t start for a couple of weeks. We’ve got a break.”
“I see.” Max didn’t shake his hand or hug him. None of them did. “We were just about to sit down for dinner. You hungry?”
“No, man. I don’t want to intrude.”
Max nodded, apparently fine with that answer and not about to argue it.
Rory looked over at their infant daughter. “How’s baby Grace?”
“She’s growing like a weed.” Max swung the refrigerator door shut.
Malee smiled up at him. “Hello, Rory.”
“Walk outside with me, bro,” Jameson said, drawing his attention. Rory knew what was coming—the big brother talk. And he supposed he deserved it, but it still irked him.
“Yeah, sure.” He followed Jameson out the back door and down the steps into the backyard that wasn’t really a backyard at all, but thirty acres. Jameson led him over to the fire pit where chairs were gathered around.
“Sit down,” Jameson said.
“We building a fire?” Rory asked.
“No, just talking.”
Rory sat in one of the canvas chairs, and Jameson sat in another.
“What’s going on with you?” Jameson asked.
“What do you mean?” Rory brushed imaginary dirt off his jeans, being evasive.
“You know damn well what I mean. That shit in Portland. Max and Liam said you were loaded on stage, and now there’s a video circulating.”
“I fucked up. Cut me a break.”
“A break?” Jameson’s brows arched. “You want a fucking break? Seems to me you’ve had quite a few breaks lately.”
Rory’s jaw clenched, and inside he silently fumed. He’d worked hard for years as a musician, doing shows in shitholes and dive bars, traveling out of the back of a van. Everyone seemed to forget that. “You think it’s been easy for me? I’ve watched as you made a success of everything you did—the shop, the reality TV show, the book you released… You’re like the fucking golden goose. You think that was easy for me, struggling for scraps as a musician while you were rolling in it?”
Jameson looked stunned. “What the hell is this? You resent me for it?”
Rory huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe I do.”
“You think I’ve had it easy? I gave up college to find a way to support all of you. I raised you, provided the best way I could for you, kept this family together. And here I sit and watch you finally coming into your own, and I’ve been damn proud, man. You’re my little brother. I want nothing but happiness for you, but man, look at you. At your age I never had the success you have, and I’m watching you throw it away with both hands. What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t fucking know
, okay? It’s not… what I thought it would be. I thought I’d be happy, but I’m not. And I don’t know why the fuck I’m not.”
Jameson ran a hand down his face and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Rory, listen to me. All the fame and money in the world won’t make you happy. You need something bigger than that, something bigger than yourself that is important to you.”
“Like what?”
“Like being a mentor the way Max is to those kids down at the Fourth Street Gym or supporting a charity like Liam does with that animal shelter or taking pride in helping his wife attain her dream with that coffee shop or having a family of your own. I don’t know, but it has to be important to you. It has to mean something. You have to give, not just take.”
Rory thought about his words. “They want me to take this two weeks to get my shit together.”
“Who does?”
“Charlotte and her manager, Lou. I guess he’s my manager now, too, but I don’t know for how much longer.”
“Then do it. Get your fucking shit together.”
Rory nodded. “There’s more.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Another artist bailed on his tour, and there are venues with dates available now. Lou said if I straighten up, I could either go out on the European tour as Charlotte’s opening act and get that exposure, or I could go out headlining my own American tour and fill those empty slots.”
“Goddamn. That’s a big opportunity, Rory. You ready for that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
“That’s why I’m sitting here.”
Jameson smiled. “From my experience, I’ve found there are going to be some life-changing moments that come along. Ones that, when they happen, shift things in a way you’re never the same again, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. When those moments happen, let them make you stronger; let them make you a better version of yourself. Step up to the plate and be smarter. It’s often the moment you let your true character shine. Be the kind of man you want to be.” Jameson rubbed his hands together. “You know, when Mom and Dad died, I didn’t think I could do it. There were moments I wanted to bail on all of it. Times I wanted to just crawl inside a bottle and hide from everything.”
“But you didn’t.”
“There was a night or two I turned to that whiskey bottle. I let myself feel sorry for myself. Then I shook it off, and did what I had to do, after a while I realized I always had the strength in me, that I could and would handle whatever life threw at me, because I had to. Family is commitment and love. You have to choose to show up, and you have to choose to love each other even on days when you don’t even like each other much. But, Rory, this family doesn’t give up on each other. I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”
Rory nodded, his throat closing around a lump of emotion.
Jameson stared off at the horizon. “It’s a beautiful night. Unseasonably warm for February. Supposed to be a couple more of them in this warm snap we’ve been having. Not even any snow up on the plateau. You should take advantage.” He jerked his chin to the mountains.
Rory turned his head to look. The mountains were always the place he and his brothers went to find peace when things got confusing and they needed to think or work out a problem. “You still got my old sleeping bag?”
Jameson grinned. “It’s in the garage. If you leave now, you can make it up there before dark.”
***
Rory sat in front of the fire he’d made, his eyes on the vast valley below. The lights of Grand Junction sparkled in the distance, and a full moon lit the puffy clouds that drifted past like fat balls of cotton candy in the sky.
It was quiet, just the sound of the breeze in the trees, the crackle of the fire, and occasionally the yip of a coyote.
Rory pulled his jacket tighter around him. He was at a major crossroads in his life. He knew that, and how he handled it would affect the rest of his life.
It was both good and bad, depending on which hand he looked at. On one hand, he’d fucked up big time, and on the other hand, a major opportunity stared him in the face.
Music was in his soul, but touring wasn’t making him happy. Not like he expected. It made him question all the goals and dreams he’d had since the moment he’d picked up a guitar at the age of fourteen.
He sipped on a steaming cup of coffee from the thermos he’d brought up and let everything Jameson had said roll over and over in his head.
Rory knew he could do without the alcohol; it wouldn’t even be a struggle. It wasn’t something he had to have; he’d just been using it as a crutch. He knew he had the strength to let that go. But he also knew he needed to start taking control. If he didn’t want a bunch of groupies on his tour bus, then he needed to lay down the law to Tommy. If the bassist wanted that shit, he could find it elsewhere, or he, too, could be expendable if that’s what it took for Rory to enjoy the road again. That wasn’t all standing between him and happiness, but it would be a start.
Rory thought about Lou’s offer. Going out on his own, headlining his own show… That was a big deal. Huge. Was he ready for that, or was sticking with Charlotte and getting exposure in Europe the way to go?
He tossed the remnants of his cup and screwed the top back on the thermos. Then he scooted down in his sleeping bag to get some sleep, hoping things would be clearer in the morning.
***
Two days later, Rory came down from the mountains and drove to the farm. When he walked inside the backdoor, Malee had baby Grace on her hip, and Ava was there with her eighteen-month-old girl who was climbing up onto a chair.
“Look at all these beautiful girls in one room.” Rory squatted down, and little Lila Rose squealed and stopped climbing to toddle to him on her chubby little legs. He scooped her up. “How’s my little angel today?”
“Ro-ro,” she called, a big smile on her face. She had her mother’s fair coloring and blonde hair with one big ringlet just starting to grow at her nape.
He kissed her cherub cheeks. “Hi, cutie-pie.”
“Good morning,” Malee said. “We already ate lunch, but would you like a sandwich?”
“No, thank you, honey.”
“You just missed the guys. They left for that tattoo convention in Denver.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t know about it. I guess I’ve been out of the loop.” He set the baby down. “I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower.”
“Rory.” Ava stopped him, and he turned back.
“Yeah?”
“Did the guys ever give you that box?”
“What box?”
“There was a bunch of fan mail at the shop. I made them put it in a box and take it home.”
Malee gestured toward the stairs. “Max put it on his bed.”
“Thanks.” Rory headed up. When he walked in his room, he saw the cardboard box sitting on the bedspread. He walked over and pulled the flaps open. It was about half full of envelopes. He smiled as he ran his hand through them and grabbed a fistful.
He sat on the bed and tore open a few. There were some sprayed with flowery perfume, some proposing marriage, some even with topless photos enclosed.
After the seventh one, he tossed them back in the box and headed for the shower.
Chapter Twenty
Sasha walked into the downtown restaurant. The sounds of clattering plates and people talking carried over the lunch crowd. She peered around until she saw Jenna and Carmen both waving at her from a booth. Striding over, she slid in next to Jenna. “Scoot over.”
“What took you so long?” Carmen asked.
“Traffic was bad.” She stole a fry from Jenna.
“Hey.” Jenna smacked her hand. “Order your own.”
Sasha peered around. “I will. Where is your waitress?”
Carmen leaned forward. “So, what are we going to do?”
“About what?” Sasha munched on the fry.
Carmen r
olled her eyes. “About Rayne.”
Jenna looked over at Sasha. “She sent that letter and got no response.”
Sasha’s chewing slowed. “That dick.”
“I know, right?” Jenna agreed.
“Maybe if we went with her to that tattoo shop—” Carmen suggested.
“She won’t do it, you know that. She’s too proud.” Sasha shook her head.
Jenna’s brows rose. “Hey, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to beg some man to toss me scraps because he feels he has to do it. Especially some rock star.”
Sasha locked eyes with Jenna, all joking and sarcasm wiped from her face. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“We hit him where it hurts. He’s famous now… a public figure. Maybe we make what he did to Rayne public, too.”
Jenna nodded. “Yeah, this baby shouldn’t be some dirty little secret to be swept under the rug so he can go his merry way with no responsibility. Fuck that.”
Carmen lifted her palm. “Wait a minute, girls. That’s the last thing Rayne would want.”
Sasha turned to her. “No, you wait, Carmen. Hasn’t he thrown her pain out there in public for everyone to hear? It’s his turn. Let’s see how he likes it.”
“This isn’t a game. This is our friend’s life. She wouldn’t want this,” Carmen insisted.
“Well, I’m out of ideas. She won’t go there. She won’t call. She wrote the damn letter, and it got her no response. You wanted us to help her, then we need to make him aware of this baby,” Sasha argued.
Jenna looked between the two women. “Maybe we could hire an attorney—have him send a legal notification. He’d have to see that, right?”
“Are you serious?” Sasha stared at her, stunned. Then began ticking off her fingers. “First, that requires us paying legal fees. Second, it would take time, and third—and I can’t stress this enough—I hate lawyers. Besides I think I’ve got a better idea.”
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