by Susan Ward
Hana scowls and snaps me out of my Tara preoccupation and hones my focus on her.
Christ, what’s up with that?
“Now,” Tara says firmly.
Hana shifts her gaze to me and it’s then I see the unvoiced worry in her eyes. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye, banana,” I assure her soothingly. “I can hang out with you the rest of the evening. That is, if you want me to.”
She almost gives me a smile this time, before she nods and disappears into the house.
We stand on the front stoop listening to Hana’s footsteps fade. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I ask, “Jesus Christ, Tara. What’s been going on here? I’ve never seen Hana this way.”
Tara shakes her head as if lost on how to explain it. “Your brother. That’s what’s been going on here. Filing for divorce didn’t change anything. Instead, the roller coaster of living with him is whizzing on the tracks even faster. He acts like nothing’s changed. You know the drill, what life is for us when Eric’s having his issues. Empty promises. Angry excuses. Dropping in and out of our lives without notice. Disappearing acts. But she’s a little girl. All the chaos and instability hits her hard.”
My mouth tightens. “Looks to me like it hits you hard, too.”
She flushes. “It’s been hell, Ethan. I won’t lie to you.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to get a handle on how things could have gotten so fucked up in every corner of my world without my knowing it. I hadn’t a clue things had gotten this bad for Tara and Hana, and I feel like a bastard for not doing something, anything, for them before today.
“You should have called me sooner, Tara.”
Her eyes tear up. “It didn’t seem right to pull you into my problems. You don’t owe me anything and I sure as hell don’t have a right to ask for your help. But it got to the point it seemed there wasn’t any other way to find out what’s happening. Not after reading the blogs this morning.”
I flush. “We’re family, Tara. If you can’t ask me for help, who can you ask?” Then my mind latches onto her last sentence. “What do you mean the blogs?”
Her brows shoot up. “The one for the band that girl writes. And the PR company. It’s all over social media. That’s how I found out my husband’s gone into rehab and you’re replacing him as lead singer with Black Dawn.”
“Rehab?” I yank my phone from my pocket and my fingers move like greased lightning across the screen.
My gaze bores into the long string of posts on the Roaming Redhead.
No, no, no.
Those weren’t there last night.
As for the stories, they’re garbage. No one knew it was me on stage instead of Eric. No one was supposed to know. And I sure as hell never agreed to replace Eric in the band.
From how the posts are written it’s like Avery was at the Bowl last night. But she wasn’t. And where the fuck did these videos come from? They look as if they were shot by her with her camera, staying consistent with that fan-in-the-audience style she prefers rather than something appearing slick and produced.
My thumb pushes and pauses until I’m through the twenty posts that appeared out of nowhere on her blog. What the fuck is happening here?
Alarm flashes in Tara’s eyes. “Ethan, what’s wrong? Eric did go into rehab, didn’t he? Please don’t tell me it’s not true. It’s the first hopeful thing I’ve heard in forever. Maybe now I can get things back on track with him and Hana can have her dad again.”
I swallow the lump in my throat so I can push out a lie. “No, it’s true, Tara. I just didn’t know about the press releases.”
“Don’t scare me like that. Not ever again.” She covers her face with her hands and I can hear her quietly crying behind her fingers. “God, why is everything so impossible? And why are you always so wonderful in my worst moments?”
I slip an arm around her. “I’m feeling pretty fucking far from wonderful. Damn, Tara. You should have known I’d always be here for you if you need me.”
She brushes at the tears on her cheeks. “Thanks for offering to spend some time with Hana. I think it’ll be good for her having you around until Eric gets back. Maybe help her to miss him less.”
I nod and the emotion in me is sucking up the oxygen before it can enter my lungs. Lying for Eric and standing in for him is something I should be used to by now, but I fucking hate it. It leaves me feeling I’m the worst kind of asshole, even worse than my brother because I don’t have an excuse for being dishonest and I know better.
But there’s no help for it.
Correcting the facts, hurting Tara and Hana with the truth won’t help anyone.
Maybe that’s why the folks kept her out of the loop. To see how long Eric stays gone before they tell her he’s gone for good. That sounds like Mom. Waiting to see, to be sure, before dropping a bombshell on someone else’s life.
Maybe that’s why those bullshit stories are on the Internet. To protect Tara and Hana from the truth.
Fuck.
Who knows?
I’m too tired to unravel it.
She lays her head on my shoulder as we walk into the house, and I know I should step away from her quickly and keep distance, but I can’t. When we land in an Eric crisis together, it’s never far from my mind that I loved her once.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ethan”
By the time I climb back into the car, it’s close to 9:00 p.m. and I’m drained in every way. But the prospect of returning to my folks’, even for my much-needed bed, isn’t appealing. Not with Avery there and the aftereffect of being with Tara fresh in me.
We’re just pulling out of the driveway when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. For a fleeting moment I tense, dreading it’s Avery—I don’t know how I’m even going to be able to text her, let alone be around her night and day at the house—but the screen reads Bobby, and, irrationally, anger replaces tension in my body.
Hell, shouldn’t Avery have tried to talk to me by now? Not that I want an apology or an explanation, but I deserve something. Some indication she’s aware she’s done a shitty thing to me.
“What’s up?”
I glance at Dillon, wondering what he’s seeing in my expression to have him ask me that, and that seals the deal of how I’m finishing this night.
“Bobby and Jake are at The Cove. Do you want to head there, have a few beers? I’m not ready to go back to the house and deal with the junk there.”
He nods. “Sure. We can do whatever you want, E.”
I stare at the screen, fighting the impulse to get it over with and tell Avery off by text, then shove my cell back into my pocket. Out of sight. Out of mind. Better idea. I need to keep her that way.
When we reach The Cove it looks like it’s jumping inside, but that’s no surprise. It’s a haunt for Malibu locals, a throwback tacky bar and eatery on the beach. The kind of joint where you drop peanut shells on the floor, drink beer instead of wine or cocktails, hear last-century rock blasting from every ceiling speaker, and find pool tables and dart boards in back instead of chic, trendy seating areas.
A small crowd of people clusters outside the door, smoking, and as we move through the gathering I can feel the stares from being recognized and those of being checked out by the girls. Both are a good thing for my wounded ego.
Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea.
A night out with the guys.
A night to drink, think nothing, talk about nothing, and clear my head.
That might be enough to stop feeling this way.
It’s packed inside, dim to the point I can’t see clearly the DJ spinning tunes in the corner. I decide to go to the bar for a drink before trying to find Bobby and Jacob.
Lots of gorgeous girls eye me as I make my way to the counter, and I can hear Dillon chuckle behind me as a space between two lovelies on side-by-side stools opens for me, and the girls instantly try to engage me.
“Asshole,” he jeers, tapping my back. “Don’t forget to grab me a br
ew, too.”
I glance back over my shoulder. “What happened to all your know-how? Not working for ya? Having trouble getting a spot at the bar, old man?”
“Nah, just let’n you feel superior for a change.”
While I wait for our Heinekens—not my choice but Dillon likes the damn stuff and since the brews are more about numbing myself I don’t give a fuck what I drink—I lean into one of the girls flanking me, trying to hear her.
“Who’s the guy hovering?”
My lips curl inward, holding back a smile because I can’t guess what she’s thinking—interest in Dillon or trying to start something with me.
“You’re asking about him?” I turn, putting my back to the bar. “I can hook you up with him if you want me to. He’s my gofer.”
Dillon glares at me and I fight not to laugh as the luscious blonde’s brows shoot up. “Gofer? Is that like an employee? Is that what you mean?”
“Something like that.”
She smiles, stiff and a smidge snooty. “Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”
I grab the beers, shaking my head. “It’s your loss. This guy takes orders and has vast know-how. Or so I’ve been told. Watch this: Dillon, go for your wallet and pay for the beers. I tell him what to do and he does it. I’m sure he’d do the same for a beautiful girl like you. You might want to rethink passing on him.”
With her drink pressed against her red lips, she eyes him up and down. “No. Not that I don’t think it’d be hot, but I was hoping to go a different direction tonight.”
She settles her lust-heated big blue orbs on me—oh, eat your heart out, Dillon.
“Can’t do it. I’m responsible for him.”
She bites the tip of her index finger. “Bring him along. I’ve got a roommate.”
Ah, the pretty girl on the left of me, that must be her, and she’s looking at Dillon as if she’s very much on board with that plan. The minor amusement I was having with this vanishes and my mood goes flat again.
“Maybe some other time.” I step away from the girls and lean into him. “Seriously, Dillon. I forgot my wallet. Can you pay for the beers?”
I take a big swig from my glass and his eyes alertly assess me as he tosses some bills on the counter. “Christ, are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”
After he lifts a glass from my hand, I rake the hair from my face and pretend to search for Bobby. “Nothing worth talking about, man.”
“One second giving me shit and smiling, and the next looking fucking grim. It’s like you’re blowing bipolar, only that isn’t you, E.”
I down three-quarters of my suds this time. “Like I said, not worth talking about.”
“Well, maybe I think it is seeing as I’m going to be stuck hanging out with you for a while. Do you know how fucking irritating it is to be with a guy who can have anything and have him act like he’s got a giant the world’s unfair chip on his shoulder?”
The unexpectedness of that comment causes my face to go red and now I’m not only feeling lousy, I’m angry.
“You’re such an arrogant jerk, Dillon. Do you ever hear yourself when you say crap like that? There are lots of things I want that I don’t have, and you expecting me to feel fucking fantastic every minute of my life doesn’t work for me. Why don’t you stow your resentment over my being privileged and that somehow makes me not entitled to things like bad days and disappointment and being pissed over what I’m sure you assume is trivial? It’s fucking wrong, man. I can’t have anything I want. I do have shitty days. And, yep, I have plenty of disappointments. I’m fucking human, Dillon. No different than anyone else. Back off.”
His always placid gaze is simmering. “If a guy like you doesn’t have what he wants it’s because he hasn’t worked for it. If you’ve got disappointments it’s because you think the things you want should come to you, and fucking waiting for things never got anyone anywhere. And, yeah, you’re human, but that doesn’t give you a right to piss on everyone because you’re pissed at your brother or because after six years you can’t work through the Tara crap in your head.”
My face heats more. Christ, why did he have to bring her up? “Fuck you. Tara has nothing to do with anything.”
“Bullshit. Like it’s a coincidence she’s the first place you hauled ass to the second your brother’s out of the picture. Here’s a reality check, Ethan. You dodged a bullet with that girl. Eric wasn’t so lucky, and you need to let it go.”
“Don’t tell me what I need to let go. And keep your fucking opinions to yourself. You don’t know shit about anything. And you are only an employee.”
His arm moves until he’s clutching the back of my neck. “I love you like a son, E. But I won’t take lip from you, and I sure as fuck won’t lie to you about what I see.”
I push him off. I don’t need more crap from Mr. Superior. I’m already full up. All I want is a beer, maybe shoot some pool, laugh if that ability returns to me, and be someplace away from Avery to get how I’m feeling somehow in line with the unwanted reality I’m living.
“Christ, can’t we just fucking lighten up?”
He nods. “Fine. You heard what I said. That’s enough for me today.”
I roll my eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or punch a wall. My tired gaze roves the packed bar. “Do you see the guys anywhere?”
Dillon’s gaze drills into the room. “No, but I hear them. Back room. Shooting pool, I think.”
I frown as we start cutting through people. “With how noisy it is in here, how the fuck do you hear them?”
“I don’t know. It’s a combat thing. I left the military with hearing like a dog.”
I lift a brow. “Dog, huh? Can you lick your own balls, too? Is that something else you left the military with?”
He cracks a smile. “Maybe. Never tried to. Unlike you, I’ve never been hard up enough to wonder if I can.”
I’m laughing now and I’m not even sure why, but it’s the first thing that’s felt slightly normal since yesterday.
At the entrance to the back we find Bobby. His face brightens when he sees me, and he pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning against watching the action in the room.
After I hand my empty glass to a passing waitress and order another, Bobby gives me a loose wraparound hug and then smiles. “Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight when you didn’t text back. What happened? Your date brush you off already?”
“No, she had to be in bed by eight.” Bobby frowns and I chuckle. “Dude, I went to see Hana. Wanted to check how she was doing.”
“Oh.” His brows furrow more. “What was all that nonsense back at the house about a date?”
The waitress brings me my second beer, giving me enough time to think of a cover story that doesn’t sound stupid as shit for that lame-ass lie.
“Didn’t want my sisters up in my business. You know how they get about me looking out for Tara and Hana. Didn’t want to hear the lecture again. That I’m enabling something. That Eric uses me as a reason not to take care of his own stuff with his family because I always do it for him. Wasn’t going to change my mind about checking in on Hana so I wanted to avoid the yap, yap, yap. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Kaley that’s where I went tonight. With where things are with Eric, I know she’s just itching to get up in my face again over all the things she thinks I need to stop doing.”
He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right. No prob. Hana’s doing all right, isn’t she?”
I shrug. “About as good as I think you can expect with all that goes on in her life.”
He reaches for his drink. “We get the next table. You ready to lose some money to me, E?”
“Nah, but I’m ready to take some from you.”
“In your dreams,” Bobby scoffs. “Glad you showed up tonight. I know this issue with Eric hits you hard. You looked like you could use getting away from it and chilling for a while.”
We stand around shooting the shit, and the tension knots in my shoulders are pre
tty much gone when high-pitched, piercing laughter penetrates the cracking sound of a rack being broken. Oh crud. I turn my head and, yes, there’s the owner of that incredibly loud voice.
“Fuck, man, this is your idea of how to unwind over everything? Khloe’s here. And she wouldn’t be if the rest of the girls weren’t. You and Jake brought my sisters.”
He shrugs as if he doesn’t get my objection. “I didn’t think you were coming. Jake and I couldn’t get out of the house without them. By the time the family meeting ended, they were all itching to cut out. What was I going to do? Say no?”
“God, you’re whipped. Yeah, try saying no sometimes. It works brilliantly. Hey, don’t get me wrong. I love my sisters, but it’s going to be hard enough living with them until this is over without them being everywhere I go.”
“Jeez, calm down, dude. Why are you getting so worked up?”
Out of nowhere, Dillon’s comment about blowing bipolar comes to mind. That, coupled with how Bobby’s studying me, warns I’m losing my shit again over nothing.
I claw my hair with my fingers. “Sorry. This thing with Eric’s just got me wound a little tight.”
Bobby’s chin starts to bob. “Wouldn’t have expected less. I know this is tougher on you than everyone else, except your folks.”
The mention of my parents makes me feel like a self-absorbed asshole, because I don’t doubt this is hitting Mom and Dad harder than me. Even with all the ways Eric crapped on me before he bounced from the country, there’s no comparison with what this means to them. Fuck—I didn’t even take a moment to pull my mother aside, give her a hug, and ask if she’s doing OK.
I bolted from the house before the family discussion ended, and—time to be honest with yourself, Ethan—of all the jagged emotions surging through my veins, the thing cutting me hardest is Eric getting with Avery.
Irrational given the circumstance?
No doubt.
But emotions don’t lie.
I’ve been tied up in knots from the moment I found out…