Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  Logan glanced between us, and for a moment, I thought Anna’s crimson flush might deter him. But, no.

  “Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “Go sell crazy somewhere else. We shared an apartment, remember? No way y’all spent a night in the same room without—”

  “Dude!” I barked. “Don’t.”

  Anna’s snort of laughter broke the tension, and when I saw the small smile curving her lips, I relaxed.

  Smirking at me, Logan grabbed Anna’s hand and led her to the couch.

  Leave it to the jackass to break the ice without falling through it.

  Logan pulled Anna down next to him, his questions coming fast and furious. And to my surprise, she answered, providing bits and pieces about her life.

  Logan met my gaze, a question furrowing his brow. Since I didn’t have a fucking answer, I merely shrugged.

  Tuning them out when Logan delved deeper into Anna’s personal life, I picked at the hangnail on my thumb. I couldn’t bear to hear the details.

  I jumped to attention when Logan snapped his fingers.

  “Dude, someone’s at your door,” he said, both brows raised in an exaggerated gesture. “Do you want me to get it, or what?”

  There was no mistaking Logan’s implication, or his intention to throw himself on the sword if some chick had found her way to my suite. Anna’s fidgeting and refusal to meet my eyes proved that Logan wasn’t the only one with an over-active imagination.

  “That’s room service.” Hauling to my feet, I smiled at Anna. “Pancakes.”

  Moments later, two rosy-cheeked attendants followed me into the room, each pushing an overfilled cart. Logan and Anna took a seat at the dining room table while the servers busied themselves unloading platters of pancakes.

  Anna pressed her lips together, biting down a grin.

  I grinned back, because really, what else could I do? The girl wanted pancakes. Maybe not four dozen, but hey, better safe than sorry.

  After helping the servers with the cart and signing the check, I returned to find Anna scowling as Logan loaded her plate.

  “Lo,” she griped. “That’s too much.”

  He snorted as he set the feast in front of her. “Don’t give me that shit. You know how hungry you get after—”

  Anna elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you dare finish that statement.”

  Rubbing his side, Logan scooted away from her. “A concert! You get hungry after a concert. Geez, girl, put that bony elbow away, and get your mind out of the gutter.”

  Smiling, I trapped Anna’s foot between mine as I poured her a cup of coffee, light with two sugars. She didn’t try to move, so I counted it as a win.

  “Anna said she’d come out to the Parish for our next show,” Logan said in between bites. “Just like the old days.”

  Anna stared down at her plate, pushing her food around.

  Filling my cup, I caught her gaze when she looked up. “You’re going to the Parish?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Logan invited me. But it’s no big deal. I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

  “Of course you’re going.” Logan glowered at me. “I would’ve invited you sooner if I’d thought you’d come. Shit, you won’t even meet me for coffee, so I didn’t think you’d be down to come to a show.”

  I froze with the cup halfway to my lips, glancing between the two of them. I hadn’t forgotten about Anna’s confession or Logan’s four-year omission, but I’d deal with that later. Right now, I was more interested in how long they’d been in contact.

  Anna didn’t notice my frozen expression.

  She gave Logan a little nudge with her shoulder. “You don’t drink coffee.”

  “For you, I would.” Logan’s eyes locked on mine as he pushed to his feet. “I got to take care of that business we were talking about.” I nodded, and he planted a kiss on the top of Anna’s head. When she looked up, he said to her, “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  She smiled, then promptly refocused on her plate.

  I hopped out of my chair, following my best friend to the door.

  “We need to talk,” I said, grabbing his arm before he slipped away.

  Logan looked down at my hand, then up to my face, smirking. “Name the time.”

  I gave Logan’s bicep a hard squeeze before I released him so that he’d know I was dead serious.

  He searched my face for a long moment, then he left.

  When I reclaimed my seat across from Anna, I noticed that her pancakes were now a pile of blueberry mush.

  “I don’t have to go to the Parish if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said quietly, without looking up. “Logan’s just . . . you know . . . Logan.”

  “Baby, I want you to go.” I took a sip of my coffee, and when the silence got too hard to ignore, I said carefully, “So you and Logan talk, huh?”

  Anna looked up, her wall firmly in place. “Yeah, a little bit.”

  I watched her over the rim of my cup as I took another drink. “How did he know where to find you?”

  Anger sparked in her emerald gaze, the gold flecks burning orange. “He didn’t have to find me, Sean. I wasn’t lost. Unlike you, I have the same email address and the same phone number.”

  I sank further into my seat, absorbing the blow. All this time, Anna was only lost to me.

  “I thought he’d mention it, that’s all,” I said as I examined the leftover grounds in the bottom of my cup. “How long have y’all been talking?”

  Anna’s silence drew my attention, and she gave me a look that said I didn’t want to know. But then she sighed. “I contacted Logan about two months after you left, just to see if you were okay.” Her focus shifted to some spot on the wall, and she continued, “He told me it would be awkward if we, him and me, kept in touch. Then about a year and a half ago, he sent me an email and apologized. I just thought he was having a moment, you know?” Our eyes met, and unable to hide the pain, she whispered, “No, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

  A pitiful apology clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it because anything I said would only serve one purpose: getting her to stop. And knowing Anna, she probably would, just to spare me.

  A dull ache settled in my chest. “So he apologized, and . . . ?”

  “I figured he’d said what he needed to say, so I was shocked when he kept emailing.”

  I forced my lips to bend, mostly because I was thinking about all the ways I was going to kick Logan’s ass. “What do y’all talk about?”

  “Lots of things.” Anna laughed. “Girls. The band. Music. Besides you and Peyton, Logan was my best friend. I lost all my closest friends when we split. It was hard.” Squinting like she was reliving a physical pain, Anna looked away. “Really hard. But we don’t talk about you, though. Logan said you never mention me, so . . .”

  Anna’s thought trailed, but the implication was there—I didn’t care. I’d never cared.

  The blow hit me square in the gut, and I offered a truth of my own, selfish as it was. “I don’t talk about you, Anna. It hurts too much.”

  A practiced smile lifted her lips. “Don’t feel bad. It was a long time ago. I’m glad you’re happy.”

  Happy? Was I happy?

  Sometimes.

  But the empty space was always there, the Anna-shaped void that I’d tried to fill with music and women and parties.

  “So,” Anna continued, snapping me out of my inner thoughts, “y’all have been in Austin for quite a while. What’s next?”

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the girl was fishing. And since I was more than willing to get caught, I smiled.

  “Nothing much.”

  It was the truth. Nothing seemed as important as keeping Anna in my life. As friends or maybe more. The more I was still trying to figure out.

  Taking her hand, I looked into her eyes. “What about you? Are you happy?”

  Anna tilted her head, pondering. And then she smiled weakly. “At times, yes. Very happy.”

  I nodded, accepti
ng Anna’s hedging, because if she were truly content, she wouldn’t be here.

  Testing the theory, I moved to the seat Logan had vacated. “So, you and Dean?”

  Anna looked down and fiddled with her emerald ring. “I don’t want to talk about Dean with you.”

  I closed my hands around hers, and again, she made no move to pull away. “Fair enough.”

  I’d never knowingly gone after another man’s girl, let alone their wife. But this was Annabelle. She was mine first. And if Dean Kent made her happy, I’d back the fuck off. But first, I needed time to assess.

  Skimming my hand up Anna’s arm and over her shoulder, I cupped her nape. “You know I built a house out at the lake?” I tilted her chin with my thumb, and she met my gaze, nodding. “How about you give me a ride home, and I’ll give you a tour of the place?”

  Chapter Ten

  Anna

  When we arrived at the Park and Ride, a crowd gathered around Sean. He gave me an apologetic smile as he posed for a couple of selfies with some fans. Funny as it sounded, I didn’t know how big Caged really was. My cyber stalking was limited to Sean, and nobody who knew me ever mentioned the band.

  Smiling back, I motioned to my car before wandering to the aisle where I’d parked my Audi.

  As I slid behind the wheel, I noticed the crowd had grown around Sean, and for a moment I seriously considered leaving.

  Because this was crazy. Over the course of twelve hours, he’d not only convinced me to have drinks but to go to his hotel suite and take a tour of his house.

  I’d texted Peyton after breakfast to let her know where I was so she wouldn’t worry, but I wished I hadn’t.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket with her ongoing diatribe, though I’d stopped responding five messages ago.

  I looked down at my hand, to the gold ring cutting into my finger, and screw it; I took the damn thing off. And then I settled into the leather seat to read my texts.

  Tucked amid Peyton’s warnings was a short video from my mother. I smiled as I watched my dad lead Willow around the corral at my aunt’s house.

  With tears lining my eyes, I tapped out a reply.

  Miss y’all. Please be careful.

  “Everything cool?”

  Startled, I looked over at Sean, who’d somehow managed to open the door without me hearing him.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  While he was busy folding himself into the seat, I waited for Mom’s reply. She was terrible about checking her phone, so I finally gave up and tossed the device into the cup holder.

  As I pulled out of the parking space, Sean noticed my small suitcase in the back seat.

  “Going somewhere?”

  The question came out as brittle as his smile.

  “To the cabin. You know, to clear my head after all the stuff with Gran.”

  Sean rested his arm on the console next to mine, and when he linked our pinkies, I had to smile. He made me feel sixteen, which was not only dangerous but foolish as hell.

  “I meant to ask,” he said as I pulled into traffic. “What happened to Gran?”

  My heart stuttered, and I had to wonder if talking about Gran would always be this painful. “Stroke. It was quick.”

  Cutting my gaze to Sean’s, I understood now why people said stuff like that. Even if there was little consolation for me, he seemed relieved. Sean’s mother had died a slow, painful death from cancer. And he never got over it.

  “Thanks again for the flowers.” I forced a tight-lipped smile. “She would’ve loved them.”

  Sean frowned before shifting his focus to the side window. “I should’ve gone. To the funeral, I mean.”

  When he turned back to me, he was the boy I’d met in high school.

  “It’s okay.”

  We drove in silence until we turned down the two-lane highway leading to the lake. Once we were on the back roads, I rolled down the window, and cedar scented air perfumed the cabin.

  Sean squeezed my pinky. “Turn left up here.”

  He motioned to the lane that seemed to lead straight into the preserve. But that couldn’t be. The preserve was off limits.

  I waited for traffic to clear, then made the turn, my heart racing as we passed under a canopy of trees.

  After a stop at the guard shack to collect a visitor’s pass, we pulled into the gate.

  “Look familiar?” Sean asked when we crested the top of a small incline, and the waters of Lake Travis peeked through the trees.

  I slammed on the brakes. “We used to camp right down there.”

  Sean chuckled, a faraway look in his eyes. “I guess that’s one way to describe it. There was a tent and a couple of fishing poles.”

  He was right. Our weekend jaunts usually consisted of skinny dipping and hot sex under the stars. And all we managed to eat were the s’mores we cooked over the campfire as we discussed all of our plans for the future.

  When we had a future.

  Sean squeezed my hand. “What is it, baby?”

  I shook my head, a little dazed.

  Sean did everything he’d set out to do. Built his house and his life and his music. He’d just done it alone.

  “Nothing.” I lifted my foot off the brake. “Tell me where I’m going.”

  Following Sean’s directions, we ended up at the bottom of a hill in front of a security fence.

  Craning my neck, I looked up at the spikes on top of the twelve-foot gate and then over to the keypad next to my window. “Is there a code or something?”

  Anger flared when Sean crossed his arms over his chest, shifting in his seat. Was he kidding right now?

  “Look, you invited me,” I bit out. “If you think I’m going to show up here some time out of the blue and bother you, you’re sadly mistaken. So either give me the code or get out of the car and punch it in your damn self.”

  A smirk twisted Sean’s lips but he continued to stare straight ahead. “Zero-five-two-four.”

  The air left my body in a rush. “What?”

  Sean finally looked at me. “Zero. Five. Two. Four.”

  I blinked. “But . . . that’s my birthday.”

  He eased a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling. “I’m aware.”

  Flustered, I rolled down the window and then punched in the code, only to have the box squawk in protest. I tried again with similar results, and Sean laughed.

  “You only get three tries until they lock you out. Unless you want to climb that fence, you’d better concentrate, Anna-baby.”

  Steadying my hand, I slowly punched in each number, and a loud beep signaled my success.

  I stared at Sean’s profile as the gate slid open. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  Exhaling a slow breath, I drove up to the mini-mansion. Before the car rolled to a complete stop, Sean was out the door with his backpack and my suitcase in his hand.

  “Hey!” I called as he strolled toward the garage.

  He shot me a grin over his shoulder. “Sit tight.”

  Still a little off balance, I sank into the seat and took a look around. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw the little meadow surrounded by a picket fence, and before I could think better of it, I was out of the car.

  “Anna!”

  Sean’s boots thundered behind me, but I kept on running.

  I stopped in front of the gate, giving it a hard shake.

  “Easy, baby,” Sean said, reaching around me to find the hidden latch.

  Impatient, I slipped inside, and then came to an abrupt halt in front of the full-grown willow tree. Curling my fingers around a low hanging branch, I swayed in my spot.

  “It’s a willow tree.” My voice cracked as I spun around. “Why do you have a willow tree in your front yard?”

  Sean squinted up to the sky, to where the leaves were so dense they nearly blocked the sun. “The same reason I have a willow tree tattooed on my arm. To remind me.”

  “Remind you of what?”

  I stumbled backward a
s he closed the gap, pressing me up against the tree trunk.

  Touching his forehead to mine, he smiled. “Of you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sean

  I pressed Anna against the tree, my hand in her hair, and my lips so close I could feel her breath.

  “Tell me to stop, Anna-baby.”

  The low growl was somewhere between a challenge and a plea. And then, just to remind Anna of what this was, what we were, my hand found hers, seeking the gold band.

  But her finger was bare. Not even a groove on her skin. Like the last four years had left no impression.

  “Tell me,” I repeated, tightening my grip so she’d know I was serious, that I’d take her right here, claim what wasn’t mine. What should’ve been mine.

  Anna held my gaze, fingers treading lightly up my arms, over my shoulders, and into my hair.

  And then she pulled me down, and her pillow-soft lips met mine. “Don’t stop.”

  Her tongue slipped into my mouth, twisting and tangling and blurring all the lines. But I wouldn’t cross over only to have her hate me, or herself. So, I let her steer the ship.

  When she guided me to her neck, panting in my ear and seeking the button on my jeans, I broke our connection.

  Her lids fluttered open, her emerald gaze dark with lust. “What?”

  “You ready for that tour?”

  Anna studied my outstretched hand. Because she knew what it was. An invitation. A disaster. The point of no return.

  And she took it.

  This wasn’t how I wanted things to go down. Not that I believed that Anna would ever see this house, but when I indulged in the fantasy, I somehow thought she’d be more impressed.

  Instead, she’d trailed behind me as we went from room to room, hands clasped in front of her like she was afraid to touch anything.

  Maybe Anna was having second thoughts. Or maybe I’d only imagined the whole thing by the fucking tree and all she wanted to do was tell me to go straight to hell and then offer directions.

  And really, could I blame her?

  Lost in thought, I topped the marble stairs and then headed for my bedroom to stow my backpack and her small suitcase, which I still had in my hand.