Rockstars, Babies & Happily Ever Afters

by Quinn, Cari

  When he texted her that he was outside—twenty-three minutes later, thank you very much—she was already on her way downstairs. She slipped into the gleaming black Audi idling at the curb and spared Simon the briefest of glances before she motioned him on.

  “Hello to you too.” He draped a wrist over the wheel as he maneuvered into the late evening traffic.

  “I don’t have time to spend chitchatting.”

  “Sure you do. It’s going to take me forty-five minutes to get to Carson, if we’re lucky.”

  She glared out the windshield. “You can’t make this rocket go any faster than that? Granny driver,” she added under her breath.

  His laughter scraped raw all the nerves already rubbed to smithereens. “I know you’re worried. I am too. Can I see the note?”

  Forcing herself not to growl, she withdrew the folded paper from her purse and passed it to him. At the next light, he scanned it before giving the paper back to her.

  “You see what women deal with when it comes to you jerks?” She thumped his arm since Nick wasn’t around and derived sick satisfaction from his pained grunt. “No worthwhile information whatsoever. And you wonder why so many of us turn lesbian?”

  His eyebrow waggle seemed forced. “I thought that was just because tits are indisputably the greatest.”

  “Not when you have your own pair.” She pressed her back into the seat as he stepped on the gas. Evidently the note—even with its lack of usable info—had been enough for him to get his ass in gear. “I’ve never been to his old house. I’m not sure why. We almost went to pick up Ricki a couple of times, but there was always—” She broke off at Simon’s incredulous stare. “What?”

  “You honestly don’t get why he didn’t take you to that dump?”

  “Don’t call it that. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

  “Oh, you’re sure. And you know that how? From sitting in your white-walled palace and imagining how the other half lives? We didn’t imagine. We grew up in a shitpile, and if you’re surprised why he wouldn’t take you right back into the steaming heart of it, then maybe you don’t know as much about him as you think.”

  Fury and fear and indignation warred a nasty battle inside her, and the loser was her composure. “How dare you,” she breathed, gripping her purse so she didn’t start beating him with it. She’d start by messing up his model-perfect hair. “You’ve been off in Paris and Milan and Prague while I’ve been here with him.”

  “Playing house.” He nodded. “I get it. But what happens to him when you stop playing?”

  “I’m not playing, any more than Margo is. Are you really so narrow-minded that you believe we can’t see beyond your pasts?”

  “No. But I believe he might think that. When you come from Carson, you operate with your back against the wall. You don’t hold your hand out because you’ll as likely get stabbed as helped.” He inclined his chin at her purse. “Call him again.”

  “He’s not going to answer me.” God, she hated knowing that, but the certainty was as plain to her as the traffic that hemmed them in on all sides. Slowing them down to a damn crawl.

  “Yes, he will. Tell him I’m coming too.”

  Immediately, she saw the validity of his plan. “Asshole,” she muttered. For once, the comment was directed at Simon, not her significant other.

  Simon’s smile was pure grim satisfaction. “He’s my best friend. I know what buttons to push.”

  There was so much she wanted to say to that. Then why are you doing this? Why have you closed him out and shut him down? Why did you wreck everything you sacrificed so much to build?

  But now wasn’t the time, and this wasn’t the place. And Nick was man enough to fight his own wars, as much as she wanted to charge in with her sword extended on his behalf.

  She called Nick and predictably, the call went straight to voicemail.

  “It’s me. I’m with Simon. We’re on our way to you. To your father’s house. We’ll be there soon.” She lowered her voice, casting Simon a sidelong glance. As comfortable as she’d grown when it came to telling Nick how she felt, she wasn’t used to doing it in front of an audience. “I love you.”

  As soon as she clicked off, Simon pounced. “That far already, huh?”

  “What do you mean already?” Her cheeks were on fire. “We’ve been dating since winter.”

  “Fucking isn’t dating, and dating doesn’t mean love and romance.”

  The vibration of her phone in her hand cut off her terse reply. Before she could snatch it up, Simon reached across and grabbed her cell from her lap. “Hello Nicky,” he said, continuing to navigate smoothly through traffic.

  She could hear Nick railing on the other side of the phone. The words were mostly intelligible, but the anger wasn’t. He didn’t want Simon anywhere near him.

  Probably didn’t want her either.

  “You through?” Simon asked a moment later, his voice mild. The ranting began again on the other end of the line and Simon sighed, waiting him out.

  She had to hand it to the dick—he definitely could teach a master class on how to effectively handle Nick Crandall.

  “We’re on our way. The car’s pointed to Carson, dude. So you can cry like a little pussy or you can man up and let your girl be by your side. I don’t fully get how you snagged someone like her, but hey, I got one too. And we thought going to number one was the luckiest we’d ever get.” He waited a second then shook his head. “Any calmer yet? No? Okay then. You keep right on screaming. We’ll see you soon.”

  He clicked off and tossed the phone in Lila’s lap. “He’s overjoyed at our impending arrival. Think we might get a ticker tape parade. Whatever the fuck that is.”

  She didn’t smile but the band around her chest loosened, just a fraction. At least until Simon pulled up in front of a small tract house in a row of other equally ramshackle buildings. The one he parked closest to had what looked like a white picket fence out front guarding a tiny patch of lawn. The fence was barely that, missing at least half of the spokes. In between weeds ran rampant, choking the small amount of grass. In the darkness, she couldn’t see much but the overgrowth that crowded the narrow steps, leading to a porch that contained an overstuffed love seat and what appeared to be a broken down firepit. Lights burned inside in every room, pushing against small windows that were like the eyes of the shrunken building in the dark.

  “Mine was two houses up.” Simon’s voice was flat, without the slightest bit of emotion. “See that empty lot? Not that you can really tell, because the houses are so close together.”

  She squinted through the windshield into the darkness. “It was torn down?”

  “I bought it and had it torn down.” He wrapped his fingers around the wheel. “If I could’ve burned it to ash myself, I would have.” He waited a beat. “Nicky should do the same. He’d be better off.”

  “He doesn’t destroy his past like that.” Her voice sounded as hollow as the chamber that had opened up in her belly. Dull, winding shock was beginning to fill it.

  She’d seen poorer areas than this. But this was his. Where his roots had been laid, where he’d grown up. This secret part of him had never been meant for her eyes, and now that she was seeing it, she felt hulled out and lightheaded.

  “No, he clings to it. No matter how much it hurts him.”

  “Like he’s clung to you?”

  He didn’t spare her a glance. “Ready to go in?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed the handle and got out into a light misting rain.

  Figured. It never rained in Southern California, except when it poured. That would start any time now. She could hear distant thunder crackling in the sky.

  Though that could’ve just been her nerves.

  A quick look around revealed Nick’s beat-up sedan tucked against the curb farther up the block, right behind Ricki’s rusted out pickup truck. He’d offered to buy his sister a new one so many times, but she’d refused.

  So they drove equally rundown vehi
cles, in spite of being able to afford any model they wanted. Well, Nick could afford it, which meant Ricki could as well.

  “Come on,” Simon said, hunching the collar of his jacket against the rain as he strode up the uneven sidewalk. She followed, slipping her hands into the pockets of her suit jacket. She hadn’t taken the time to change, and her pale yellow suit fit in here about as well as the sun in the middle of the night.

  She didn’t fit, and she had a feeling Nick would be booting her out in no time flat.

  They climbed the short flight of steps and walked across a porch with more than a couple of rickety boards. Simon reached out to steady her when her heel notched in a gap between the wood before opening the screen door and rapping twice on the door inside.

  It took approximately thirty seconds for Nick to yank the door open and glare out at Simon. He didn’t even appear to see her. “What do you want? I told you not to come.”

  “Yeah, well, luckily I don’t listen to you.” Simon stepped aside and gestured to Lila. “Though I don’t understand why, she loves you and she’s worried about you, and since apparently you never bothered to tell her where you grew up, she called me. Are you going to shout at her too?”

  He glanced at her and his expression softened for such a brief moment she almost thought she’d imagined it. Then his amber eyes hardened like a chunk of some priceless mineral that couldn’t be corroded by time or the sharpest implement. Completely immovable. “My sister’s finally sleeping, and I don’t intend to argue with you tonight.”

  “So argue with me instead.” Lila nudged Simon aside and laid her hand on Nick’s chest, intending to shove him into the room if she had to. But he gave way easily and let her pass. Not so with Simon, however.

  His arm came up to block the door. “I haven’t needed you for the last seven months. I sure don’t need you now.”

  “Glad to hear it, but guess what?” Simon smiled thinly. “Not leaving. So unless you want to wake up Ricki and all the neighbors, you’ll move that arm and let me inside.”

  She expected him to argue more. It was Nick’s way under the best of circumstances, and this was far from that. Instead he just moved out of the door and stalked into the narrow, cramped living room. He aimed directly for a short glass that contained clear liquid on the coffee table and knocked it back in one swallow.

  “My dad liked whiskey.” He slammed the glass back down, his gaze remaining squarely on Lila. “Now that’s two things you didn’t know about me. How bad of a shithole I grew up in and that the closest I can get to him on the night he died is to get fucking lit on his drink of choice.”

  She gasped. Simply couldn’t help it. Questions sprang to her mind but somehow she kept them off her tongue. Like why hadn’t he told her, if in the note if not via phone call? Why hadn’t he leaned on her, just a little?

  Why was anger always his default, no matter what?

  Somehow she resisted asking them though. She moved toward him, hesitating only a second before she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his neck. The comfort he gave her just by being the same solid wall he always was, smelling of leather and smoke and sin, was immeasurable.

  She only hoped her presence gave him some as well.

  He reached up to cup her head, his fingers tangling in the hair she’d forgotten to pin back up once she’d taken it out of its restrictive bun. And he turned his cheek against her head, pressing as close to her as she was to him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, too softly for anyone else but her to hear.

  Eyes burning, she nodded. She wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but it didn’t matter. She forgave him for everything. “I’m sorry too,” she said back just as quietly.

  Simon’s footsteps on the creaky floor broke their moment. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t—I didn’t realize he was gone.”

  Nick gave a quick, sharp nod. “I didn’t tell Lila, so no, you wouldn’t have.”

  “His heart?”

  Nick nodded, his hand fisting in her hair. She didn’t straighten, sensing he needed to have her close for a little bit longer. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “He’s been on borrowed time since last winter. Like we all are.”

  She reached down for his other hand and linked their fingers, then eased back enough to meet his gaze. “I’ll go sit with Ricki for a while.”

  Again, he nodded, saying nothing. But the look in his eyes said volumes. An apology, still. Gratitude. Shame, which hurt her because he had nothing to be ashamed for, ever.

  And over all, love. Just love, the kind that softened every blow and cushioned every landing.

  Not caring about Simon, she cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to hers. The taste of whiskey flavored the press of his lips hard against hers. Hard enough to bruise, if she wasn’t so much stronger than she appeared. She could stand strong for herself and for him too, for as long as he needed.

  He didn’t deepen the kiss, just inhaled until the air she offered gave him enough to step back and keep breathing on his own. The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile, but closer.

  Stiffening her shoulders, she turned to face Simon and raised a brow. “I’ll be right down the hall.” She wasn’t sure where Ricki was sleeping, but down the short hall off the living room was a good guess. The place seemed tiny. “If you make things worse, I will maim you in ways that Margo will never forgive me for.”

  Nick snorted out a laugh and Simon saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Second bedroom,” Nick said, gripping her fingers for an instant before she nodded and left the men alone.

  On the threshold of the bedroom Nick had indicated, she paused. The door was cracked and she nudged it open, her breath tripping at the sight of Ricki bathed in the pink glow of a small lamp. She was curled up in the center of a twin bed, with her knees drawn up to her chest. One arm gripped them and her other hand was tucked under her cheek.

  She wasn’t sleeping.

  “Hi.” Lila swallowed deeply and stepped inside. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

  “Of course. Thank you for coming for him.” She smiled faintly as she drew herself up into a sitting position. Her lips were so pale that they nearly melded into the colorlessness of her skin. “He needs you.”

  “I didn’t come only for him.”

  Ricki’s smile never faltered. “Thank you,” she said again.

  “No, I mean it. I came for you too. I texted you. What I said—I mean it.” When Ricki didn’t reply, she moved toward the bed and sat on the edge. Not too close, but close enough. “We’re friends, right?”

  “Sure.”

  Lila tucked her hair behind her ears. She’d had far too friends since she’d moved to LA, and other than Margo and Jazz, and to a lesser extent Harper, had even fewer female friends. It was hard for her to extend herself, especially when she wasn’t sure of the reception. But for Nick—and his sister—she would.

  What she’d do for both of them would’ve scared the hell out of her, if she’d had any room left inside her painfully tight chest for fear.

  “It’s not just about me and Nick,” she said quietly, her gaze never wavering from Ricki’s face in spite of Ricki’s lack of eye contact. “I’m not trying to get in with you because of him. I don’t work that way. If it ended with him tomorrow, I’d still want to be your friend.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Ricki lifted her head and that same little smile returned. “We look too much alike.”

  Lila laughed softly. “That’s true. Even so. I like you.” When that wasn’t enough, she swallowed and tried again. “I love you. It wasn’t easy for me to say to him, and it’s not easy for me to say to you. I know we don’t know each other all that well, as far as how long we’ve been friends, but we have fun together and he cares about you so much that I didn’t have to try to love you. It just happened. You feel like family.”

  Ricki’s denim blue eyes filmed over before she shut them. “I don’t have any family left. Just Nicky. I could use more.”
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  “Me too,” Lila whispered. “I mean, I have my parents, but they’re so far away. Out here I’m all alone. I could…” She broke off, every self-protective instinct leaping to the fore. And she ignored every one. “I could really use a sister.”

  Ricki made a choked sound in her throat and launched herself at Lila, nearly dislodging both of them from the bed with the force of her hug. Caught between laughter and tears, Lila caught her and hung on, squeezing her tightly. She was thin, but not as thin as she’d been once.

  She would be okay. God, she had to be.

  “Thank you,” Ricki breathed, again and again. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Nick clasped his hands and sat on the edge of the threadbare couch. Simon remained standing near the door, his head down.

  Neither one of them appeared to be in any rush to speak.

  “You didn’t have to come in,” Nick said finally. “I know she called you, but you could’ve just dropped her off and gone.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. It didn’t work when we were seventeen, and it isn’t working now.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know exactly how little weight you give me or my opinions. I’m just saying that if some misplaced sense of propriety brought you in here, you’ve done your duty. You helped Lila, and you helped me.” The next two words were harder to force past the knot in his throat. “Thank you.” Now leave.

  “It wasn’t anything. I drove my car.” Simon came over to sit beside him, aiming right for the cushion with the spring that had torn through the middle. He didn’t even blink when it stuck him in the ass. “It’s a lot less than I should’ve done these past months.”

  Nick stared at the wall with its peeling and chipped paint. Robin’s egg blue, the color had been once. He remembered his mother picking it out and applying it so carefully to the walls. She’d been so proud of this place back then.

  Until she’d turned her back and walked away from all of it. All of them.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d turned her back. Maybe one of these days he’d get used to the feeling of being gut punched by people he loved, but that day wasn’t today.