Asher built the melody with his fast fret work. Bill slid out of a shadow, his guitar hitting the octave lower. They both grinned, pleased as I was with the three-part harmony. Hayden played an intricate series of chords along his keyboard. Carl brushed out some soft beats, his head bobbing.
I kept my focus centered on Mila as I stepped back to the microphone. A flash zinged up my spine. I’d missed her presence in the crowd. I didn’t want to tour again without her. Hell, I didn’t want to live without her again.
“There comes a time,
Somewhere, down the line
Where it’s about what could’ve been.
But you know what, baby?
I don’t worry
cuz I found you again.
Now let me hold you close
and keep you warm.
Pride ain’t that mighty,
not when yours is the best love
I cannot lose,
So baby, I’m here, needing you—
If you stay,
Let me hold you close
and keep you warm.
Her lips parted, and her eyes darkened. If I was closer, those brown-green swirls would suck me in.
I sang the next verse as the music built up and crashed over me. Asher revved up, head bent over his guitar. One of the most awe-inspiring moments ever—standing on stage and watching him handle his instrument. I was playing with Asher Smith. He played the lead guitar on a song I wrote.
My eyes snapped back to Mila’s. She stared, entranced, even when Noelle leaned over clasp her hand. I slid into the final chorus.
“So baby, shut the door—
Slip in close
and keep me warm.”
The crowd went insane. It took five minutes for the fans to quiet enough for us to be heard through the sound system.
Hayden stepped forward, making the gesture to settle down. “You got the biggest treat. Ets wrote that song last week, and you’re the only people who’ve heard it. Now, we have to break. We’ll be back with some more excellent tunes in a few.”
I slipped off my guitar, handing it to a waiting roadie. I turned to Hayden, and he gripped my hand, pulling me into a one-armed hug. “Bloody amazing! Best song we’ve ever performed.”
“That’s because I played the lead,” Asher said. He smiled at me, slapped my back. “But Hayden’s right. A great one tonight.”
“Thanks to both of you, Bill and Carl. Playing with you, having Mila here, that meant everything.” I shook their hands, hoping Hayden understood all that I was feeling.
“She’s safe and she’s yours, mate,” Hayden said. “Go home. We’ll talk soon.”
“Sounds good. And Hayden?” I cleared my throat. “You’ve always been my best mate.”
The corner of Hayden’s mouth flipped up. “You have good taste.”
30
Mila
“He wrote you a song, Mil. It’s freaking beautiful.” Noelle swiped her knuckle under her eye. “Holy hell. He made me cry.”
Me, too. The lyrics were gorgeous and heartfelt. But it was the softening of his features, the Murphy I met over five years ago peeking through those shuttered eyes that took my breath away. He hopped off the stage, much to the fans’ delight. They surged forward; everyone wanted a piece of him.
“Oi!” Hayden’s voice poured out of the speakers. “Give the bloke air enough. He’s got to get to his woman. She’s recovering from being shot, remember. No jostling that precious merchandise unless you want to see Ets go thermal-nuclear. It’s not pretty.”
The crowd, even the overzealous women, laughed and stepped back.
He sauntered through the crowd because, hey, Murphy would always thrive on the adoration. But as he stepped close, his eyes sought mine. And I fell into his blue-gray gaze, falling in love with him all over again.
“You sang me a song,” I whispered.
He pulled me into his arms with the most exquisite care. He kissed my eyelids, where tears trembled. Then he kissed my nose and I smiled. Finally, he placed his lips over mine. His lip ring was warm and I flicked it with my tongue, pulling his lip deeper into my mouth, just like he liked. We both moaned as need torched over our skin.
He pulled back, much more aware of our audience than I. “Sorry, folks. We’re out.”
I squeaked as his arm slid just under my bum and he lifted me off the ground. I rested my head against his shoulder, too caught up in Murphy’s scent to care about the videos soon to be uploaded on every social media site.
An hour later, we lay facing each other in the hotel suite’s bed. He ran his finger over my nose and lip. “I love you in bed with me.”
“I love you,” I replied.
His eyes lit up just before his teeth flashed white in the building darkness. He wrapped his arm around my waist but didn’t pull me any closer. He worried about my wound. I inched toward him until I all our skin touched. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I’m sorry, Mila.”
“For what?” I murmured.
“Lots of things, really. For thinking I knew best. For the way I handled our breakup, for trying to get you to quit your meds before you were ready. But mostly, that Jordan took away your chance to have another baby. I wanted to see a little girl just like you running ’round our place, rocking some glittery pink princess shit.”
I struggled not to laugh. Only Murphy. “I have something to tell you about that.”
He ran his fingertip over my nose, across my lip, up my jawline, his eyes following his finger. In all my dreams about being touched like this, none felt as good as the real deal. I sighed.
“You tired?” he asked.
“A little.” I paused, wondering if it was too soon. But, no, I should have told him days ago. Like he’d asked me before, why did you wait?
I didn’t plan to wait, to hold secrets in, ever again.
“My doctor ran blood work after my surgery. A couple of times. Both times my hCG levels came back elevated. I’m going to see a specialist next week.”
“Okay. So you need some more tests runs then? Are you going to be okay?” He sounded so worried. I loved how he worried about me.
“The hCG is the pregnancy hormones. It’s still early days yet, but it’s possible I’m pregnant.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Murphy’s brow pulled low and a scowl twisted across those gorgeous lips.
“I’m not sure if I am. It’ll be another couple of weeks to know for sure.” And you haven’t told me you love me.
“But you could be?”
“Yes.”
“And it is likely?”
“It’s a strong possibility,” I said, grinning up at him. He leaned down and kissed me, taking great care not to bump my shoulder. He pulled back and I hummed against his chest, feeling happier than I could ever remember.
He ran his fingers through my hair, each of us soaking up being near the other. “You’re thinking hard in there. Spill it, love,” he said.
I thrilled at the endearment, but I wanted the words.
“You start your next tour soon. I bet.”
“About that. Flip wants some time off to enjoy his new family. Hayden’s settling down into his new life with Briar. Jake wants to go back to uni and study more art history. He’s applying to the program here, at Northwestern, where Briar is taking courses.”
I giggled. “Jake’s turning into a tweedy professor.”
“That he is.” Murphy’s smile slid off, leaving him serious, nervous even. Why did I like him best just off balance? He seemed so much more human. “Mila, I—”
He stopped talking and my heart sank.
“You do have a new song to record,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Did that at the show tonight. It’s on YouTube and the record label will release it as a live single.”
“Thank you. For the song.”
“If I’d been smart, I would have written it instead of ‘She’s So Bad.’” He continued to trace his
fingers over my face and my lids grew heavier. “I love you, Mila. I even love your damn annoying bird, who I plan to build an entire room for once you pick out a house. And I have plans to marry you someday. Soon. No. When you’re ready. Preferably before the little nipper shows up.”
“Don’t be silly,” I scoffed. “You don’t have to marry me.”
“I’ll propose as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”
“But it’s so soon after we got back—”
“Mila? You need to fight less. With me, I mean. You’re getting a big fucking ring and you’re going to take my name, make the bub ours.”
“Oh, am I?” My tone was dry. “What if that’s not what I want?”
Murphy groaned. “Bollocks. I’m trying. I’ll ask you right as soon as you feel well enough for the rest of your surprise evening.”
“What if I don’t want a surprise evening?”
“Go out, take on the rest of the world but let me give you this. And you have to promise to stay safe whilst you save other people. Because I need you. And I love you. We’re meant.”
I pressed my lips to his throat, soaking in the words I’d desperately needed to hear. Pulling back, I looked up into his eyes. “I love you, too.”
He smiled, brighter than I’d ever seen before, which made me smile.
“You think we were meant?” I asked.
“No.” His finger traced my nose, lips, cheeks. “I know it.”
Thank You!
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Acknowledgments
There are so many people I need to thank. This journey wasn’t an easy one. First, my husband, Chris, and my parents. Your support made this possible.
Taylor, your thoughtful comments were insightful and so very helpful. I’m so glad we’ve had the opportunity to work together.
Juliette, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the help with the Aussie-isms. And for reading such an early draft and giving me hope there was, indeed, something special in this story.
Shane and Susie, your knowledge of the criminal justice system allowed me to write an informed story. Thank you so, so much for sharing your expertise.
My LERA friends, thank you so much for your generosity and support.
Clarissa, thank you for an amazing cover. I love it.
Nicole, your thoughtful edits made this book shine (just like the ones before it!). I cannot thank you enough. I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you and now count you a dear friend as well as a kick-ass editor.
Erin, you amaze me with your ability to create such strong back cover copy. My books are stronger because of your efforts. Thank you.
And to my readers, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. You’re the best! Be sure to say hello on Facebook or Twitter. I’d love to “meet” you all.
Also By Alexa Padgett
SWEET SOLACE (Book One of the Seattle Sound Series)
She Knew Him When
When they first met, she was far too young—seventeen, and already in love with the man who would break her heart. Asher Smith was an up-and-coming songwriter, but he knew better than to show his fascination. He wrote a song for Dahlia. And then he moved on. His whiskey-rough voice made him a star, even as fame extracted its price.
He Never Forgot Her
When she sees Asher next, Dahlia Dorsey is the widowed mother of a teenager, a reclusive writer. She’s given up on happy endings—she can’t even script them for her characters. But a moonlit beach and the touch of an old friend turn loose her pain and her desires, whether she’s ready or not.
They’re Risking It All
Dahlia’s career is on the rocks. Asher’s family is falling apart. Neither can chase a passing attraction. But for two souls wounded worse than they can admit, the connection between them is a balm too precious to refuse—and a thrill too exhilarating to resist . . .
BETWEEN BREATHS (Book Two of the Seattle Sound Series)
Grief brought them together
A hospice center is no place to fall in lust. But with his world cracking during his estranged mother’s last days, Hayden Crewe needs something sweet to focus on. It doesn’t matter that he’s the backbone of Australia’s hottest international rock group—here, watching his mother die, he’s more alone than ever. So when he meets long-legged, clear-minded Briar Moore, he suddenly knows exactly what will fill the hole inside.
Fortune will drag them apart
Briar has just escaped a job and relationship that nearly crushed her. Crawling out of the wreckage of her previous life, she’s done playing it safe. Sexy, vibrant Hayden is what she wants, and Briar is going to take him. For as long as she can…
Out of heartbreak comes hope
With their time short and the ghosts of their pasts haunting every moment, Briar and Hayden know they’ve fallen too deep. While those few, intense days changed them both forever, everyone knows a connection this intense should burn out as fast as it ignited…
MANY SOUNDS OF SILENCE sneak peek!
Read on for the first chapter of Abbi’s book, MANY SOUNDS OF SILENCE.
Chapter One
Clay
This was one of the last times I’d stand in this spot, ever.
Glancing around campus, inhaling the sharp tang of a late September morning, I reveled in it—that crackle of energy that always accompanied the first day of school. I’d looked forward to day one every year since kindergarten when I finally got to join my brother at “big school.” For the first time, nostalgia warred with excitement.
In nine months, I’d have my degrees in music theory and finance. I wasn’t going to be caught, as my father had been, without an understanding of the business side of the music industry. That’s what really mattered—more than talent or stage presence.
With my contacts in the music scene, Kai, Dane, and I were sitting in a mighty prime spot. Just where we wanted. Because next year, we were…My thoughts skidded to a halt. Why was that guy taking pictures?
We hadn’t blown up big enough to warrant paps on campus. His camera wasn’t pointed at me…there. Long, dark red hair bobbing away from me. Yep, the photographer was snapping shots of that girl.
I tracked her as she walked across the Quad, near the fountain. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, whipping out behind her before sweeping forward across her face. She brushed it back with an absent-minded hand as she cast a furtive glance back at the photographer. She knew he was there, and if the tiny frown was any indication, she wasn’t happy about his invasion of her privacy.
I totally got that.
She wore gray Toms and jeans, cuffs rolled up to show off a hint of slender calves and slim ankles. Her top was gray, elbow-length. A kind of don’t-notice-me outfit that blended into the crowd.
Except she didn’t blend. Part of it was the way she held herself—tight, tense, waiting for the next blow. I knew that stance because it was my mother’s since she sat my brother Colten and I down to tell us our baby sister Cassidy had cancer.
The photographer was still taking pictures of her. Maybe she was a model or actress. I moved forward, trying to catch a glimpse of her face as a niggling feeling of recognition built. Her messenger bag’s strap cut between her breasts, emphasizing them. She didn’t look at anyone; she moved with purpose toward her goal.
Because she was alone, I assumed she was a freshman or a transfer student. Finally, I was close enough to catch a glimpse of her profile. She didn’t have the wide-eyed wonder of a first-timer, which made the transfer option more likely. I tracked her until a group of girls passed between us.
I blew out a breath, trying to push aside my annoyance and need. Annoyance because of the need.
A man stopped in front of her, and she stepped back when he touched her arm. Her body tensed, as it would with a stranger invading personal space, mirroring my own stiffening muscles. The pap moved in closer, the predator scenting blood.
Oh, fuck no. Before I realized it, I was once again moving across the open area.
I’d already picture my fist in the guy’s face when she brushed passed him. The photographer set aside his camera, clearly annoyed the shot wasn’t a money one.
A big group of students moved between me and the girl, laughing and joking, clearly glad to be back on campus. If I went after her, the photographer would stick around. Craning my neck, I watched her open the door to the Bagley Hall. The girl was into chemistry.
I smiled, feeling like a cat given a bowl of cream, especially when the photographer packed up his equipment. Good riddance.
“You’re that glad to see me, Clay?”
I glanced down at Bethany, quickly arranging my features. She was our version of Mel from Flight of the Conchords except Bethany was shorter, way clingier and pretty much not someone I wanted to see. Ever. She reminded me of those pixies my little sister used to watch. A bothersome one.
I spun about and started walking toward the Music Building. She fell in next to me. I tried hard not to sigh. And failed.
“What’s that about?” she asked.
You. Not getting the hint. “Just tired.”
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