Closer to You (Grindstone Harbor, #1)

by Cat Mason

  Closer to You

  A Grindstone Harbor Novel

  By: Cat Mason

  All Rights Reserved. This work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photographic) in part or whole without expressed written consent from Amy Cox a.k.a. Cat Mason.

  This is a work of Fiction. All characters, organizations, brands, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons living or deceased is completely coincidental.

  Copyright © Cat Mason Books 2016

  First Publication: September 2016

  Cover Image and Design By: Judi Perkins Concierge Literary Promotions and Designs.

  Editing By: Asli Fratarcangeli

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Playlist

  Dedication

  For Ronnie,

  You were the yin to my yang, and I miss that every day because no one even comes close in my eyes. No one ever will! Trust me, I’ve looked. Without you, and your contagious laugh, the world isn’t nearly as bright. This book, this craziness that has more of me in it than I am comfortable with, is all for you.

  Chapter One

  First Class Ticket to Crazytown

  Bristol

  “There are no words left to say.

  The silence can speak for us tonight.

  I know now you’ll never let me in.

  Your heart of stone will never be mine.

  Pack your things, I can’t ask you to stay.

  Go now.

  I’ll stand here and watch as you walk away.

  Silently screaming.”

  “Alright, St. Louis,” I shout into the mic as I slip it back onto the stand. Clapping my hands above my head and stomping my foot, I match the beat Greer is banging out on his kit behind me. “Let’s sing it again. This time, I wanna hear you scream!”

  The stage lights shine out into the night, illuminating the crowd of people singing along with every song we play. Thousands of people fill mosh pits, stadium seats, and even the lawns at the edge of the amphitheater. All here to see us.

  Sometimes, it feels like a dream.

  I am pumped. The energy of the crowd has me jumping up and down while I belt out another chorus of our current chart topper, Silently Screaming. The voices of the crowd echo into the night, damn near drowning me out.

  I love every second I spend on stage.

  “St. Louis, you’ve rocked my fuckin’ world. I am Bristol Lachlan, and we are Absent Without Leave. Rock the fuck on!”

  Running off stage, I am followed by the rest of my bandmates. Greer stopping, only to chuck his sticks out into once of the mosh pits of screaming fans.

  “Party time!” Quinn whoops, tugging the strap of her bass over her head. Tucking it back in the case carefully, she toys with her lip ring.

  “I was thinkin’ I’d probably just go back to the hotel and crash,” I inform her. “Early flight.”

  Everyone’s eyes widen in shock. “You can’t skip out on fun the last night of the tour, Bristol,” Greer argues.

  “Nope,” Quinn agrees. “It’s not allowed. Besides, beers are on me. Unless your name is Tanner,” she adds, winking at him. “Then you’re shit outta luck.”

  “Aw, that’s not nice, Quinnie,” Tanner says, coming up behind her and standing beside Greer.

  “Neither was you givin’ some random piece of ass my new red leather boots!” she fires back, glaring at him. Shouldering her bag, she wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Buy me boots, Tanner, I’ll buy you beer. Let’s go, B.”

  “Come on, Quinn. I said I was sorry,” he shouts, following us down the ramp. “That chick wasn’t gonna leave without shoes. Let’s kiss and make up.”

  “Hey!” Greer yells, shoving him into the wall. “That’s my sister, asshole.”

  “So,” Tanner defends, Greer in the back of the head. “I wouldn’t stop you from gettin’ with my sister.”

  “Tone down the violence,” Evan, our head of security and my very bossy, yet protective, shadow scolds, leading us through the parking lot. “Don’t make me kick both your scrawny asses. Again.”

  “It’s all good, E,” Greer laughs, punching Tanner in the arm. “Can’t get with Tanner’s sister anyway. She’s not my type.”

  “The fuck does that mean?” Tanner asks defensively, balling up his fists.

  “It means,” Quinn laughs, “that we all know your sister bats for Team Cooch. Maybe when you go out to replace my boots, you should buy your fool self a clue. Hell, she is an accountant and still gets more pussy than you do.”

  “Say what now?” Tanner’s brown eyes widen. Yanking a hand through his curly, dark brown hair, he shakes his head and blows out a breath. “That would explain so much back in high school.”

  “How the hell did this conversation go from Tanner being a shoe stealing nutnugget to an episode of Twat Swap: Sister Edition?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “Sure,” Tanner huffs. “Only you would make it sound cheap and degrading.”

  Stopping, I look at both the guys and shake my head. “Just callin’ it how I see it.” Yanking open the door, I climb into the back of the SUV.

  The ride back to the hotel is filled with random chatter. Everyone is busy making plans to blow off some much needed steam now that the final show in our North American tour is in the bag. In a few months, it will be back to the studio to record our next album, followed by press tours, interviews on radio and talk shows before we head back out on the road ahead.

  Once I get to writing those songs, that is...

  As much as I love making music and performing in jam packed arenas, there is a whole lot more to it than that. As grateful as I am for the opportunities I have been given, and all that I have accomplished in my twenty-five years, I am ready for the first extended break we have had in five years. I’m betting everything, including the future of AWOL, on this much needed breather from the chaos being just what I need to end my writer’s block and allow the lyrics I need to begin flowing again.

  If not, we will be changing our name from Absent Without Leave to Shit Outta Luck...

  Tugging on my hooded sweatshirt, I slip my sunglasses into place before grabbing my bag and climbing out onto the sidewalk.

  “I can’t believe you really aren’t coming with us,” Quinn whines, pouting her lip. “You’re really going to send me out with dumb and dumber alone? Who’s gonna help me pick up the perfect male specimen?”

  “You don’t need my help to get laid.” Turning to face her, I shake my head. “Food, a hot shower and sleep is all I’m after tonight. You guys have fun.”

  “Be that way,” she groans, closing the door as they pull away.

  “Lobby and lounge are both crowded,” Evan says, sizing up the place through the large windows. Yanking a hand through his long black hair, he turns to me. “Could get messy if you’
re spotted.”

  “Don’t worry, Heavy E,” I wave him off, heading for the doors. “I’ll protect you.”

  Opening the door, he arches a brow. “That’s comforting.”

  Raising my arms, I push up my sleeve and flex my bicep. “Right?”

  Chuckling, E tucks me into his side, his large frame towering over mine as he ushers us through the lobby toward the elevators. People look, some even stare, but not at me. The looks are all directed at the six and a half foot tall, three-hundred-pound beast that is Evan Pahl.

  “They’re all starin’ you down, tryin’ to figure out what football team you play for,” I laugh, jabbing the button for the elevator.

  “You’re damned crazy, you know that?” he asks as we step inside and the doors close.

  Unable to help myself, I laugh. “You say that like it’s a new development.”

  Stepping out onto our floor, Evan’s eyes are on high alert. His eyes scan up and down the hall, checking each corridor as we make our way down to the end where my suite is. Pulling out my keycard, I get us inside, flipping on the lights as I go.

  Evan flings open the fridge, rattling bottles as he digs through its contents. “Hope that’s cold. We’ve got no ice,” I inform him, dropping to the sofa. “I’ll see if room service will bring some when I order food.”

  “I can get ice,” he fires back, popping open the top on a can of soda and taking a quick chug. “I’ll go grab some while you get showered. We’ll order up when you’re done.”

  “Okay,” I mutter, letting my eyes close.

  “Okay,” he mocks me, making me smile. The door closes and I exhale deeply, knowing that I need to get up and shower, even though I would rather lie here instead.

  “Finally.”

  The unfamiliar male voice has my eyes flying open wide. Jumping from the couch, I meet the dark eyes of a man I have never seen before, dressed entirely in black. Flipping the latch on the door, he smiles at me. “I thought he’d never leave us alone.”

  “W-who are you?” I stammer nervously, stepping behind the sofa. “How did you get in here?”

  “Sorry,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve been planning this for so long. I have gotten ahead of myself. I’m Chris. We have so much to talk about, Bristol. But, not here.” Extending his hand, he steps toward me. “Come with me.”

  My body is frozen in place. My legs feel as if they are filled with lead. I can’t move, even though everything in me screams to run. Even if I could force my feet to move, he is blocking my exit. I know that even if I got around him, I would never be able to get out of the latched and locked door before he caught me.

  “You’re frightened,” he speaks again, watching me carefully. Holding up both hands, he smiles. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never do that.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I explain, trying hard to stay calm. “Please leave.”

  “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “I can’t be apart from you. Not anymore.” Closing the distance, he grabs my arm. His other hand comes up, cupping my cheek. His left eye twitches, sending chills down my spine. Dread churns in my gut, unease spreading throughout my body. “You and I were made for each other, Bristol. Your songs say so.”

  “What the—” Evan says, jiggling the handle and pushing on the door. “Bristol, what the hell is going on? Unlatch the door!”

  Releasing his hold on me, Chris turns and paces. “No. No. No. No,” he chants, pounding the side of his head with his fist. “This is all wrong.”

  I have no idea what his plans are, but I don’t have any intention of finding out. Seeing an opportunity, I run for the door. “No!” he screams, charging after me. Leaping over the couch, he tackles me to the ground.

  “E!” I scream, fighting back with everything I have. “Help!”

  “Ssh,” Chris pleads, pinning my arms to the carpet above my head. “You’re going to ruin everything!”

  Tears stream down my face, but I don’t stop fighting him. I move my legs, kicking violently against his body while trying to free my arms. “Let me go, you crazy fuck!”

  The door flies open and Evan barrels in like a machine. Yanking Chris up by his throat, he slams him into the wall. “Motherfucker!” he roars, punching him in the stomach.

  Chris crumples to the floor, wheezing for breath. Evan’s knee collides with his face, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. My head begins to spin at the sight of the blood. Oh God, please don’t let me faint. Yanking him up by his shirt, E whips him around, pinning his body to the wall. “You even look at her, you crazy piece of shit, and I’ll rip your heart out,” he grounds out, using the handcuffs he always carries in his back pocket to restrain him by cuffing his arm to one of the poles coming out of the bar.

  “I love her,” Chris responds, staring up at E.

  “The fuck you do,” E bites out, slamming his head into the wall, knocking him out cold. Releasing his body, he lets him fall to the floor again, turning his attention to me. “You okay?” he asks, immediately at my side, helping me to my feet.

  “Fine,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m fine.”

  Evan bolts into action. Tucking me into his side, he checks the rest of the suite, securing each room. In the master bedroom, we find the balcony doors opened and a backpack on the bed beside all of my now packed luggage. Dozens of photos, all of me, cover the wall above bed’s headboard.

  “Sick bastard,” he mutters, yanking the phone from his pocket. “Don’t touch a damn thing. I gotta call this in.”

  Walking over, I drop into the chair on the other side of the room. While E puts calls in to the hotel manager, police, and calls the rest of the band back to the hotel to get everyone back under one roof, I sit silently and let him do his thing. To be honest, I don’t know what to say anyway. I haven’t even begun to process the last few moments in my mind.

  Within minutes, the suite is filled with cops and hotel security. An ambulance is called in to assess Chris, and stabilize him for transport to the hospital, where he will be treated for his injuries while under police custody. I tell the story of what happened so many times that it begins to become automatic. I am exhausted, both physically and mentally.

  Even injured and cuffed to a stretcher, Chris continues to rant about how we belong together. “This is only temporary,” he rants, glaring at Evan. “You can’t stop what we have.” His eyes fall on me as I sit on the sofa. My stomach rolls. “My heart is black. The darkness seeps into everything I do. My only light, the only hope I have, is you,” he sings loudly, pulling at his restraints. The lyrics of our first number one single, Translucent, send chills running down my spine and have me fighting back the urge to vomit.

  “Miss Lachlan.”

  Looking up, I see the female officer approaching, taking my attention away from my attacker as he is pushed into the hall. “I’m officer Regina Sheppard. We’re all done here for now. If there’s anything you need, or you have any questions or concerns at all, please feel free to contact me directly at this number.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, taking the business card from her outstretched hand.

  Evan shows everyone out, locking the door behind them. Wrapping my arms around myself, I blow out a breath and will myself to relax. “I don’t wanna be here anymore, E,” I whisper, almost not recognizing my own voice.

  “There’s room in Quinn’s suite, just down the hall. We can crash there until we leave for the airport.”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I meant. I need a break from the crazy and I don’t see that happening unless I do something drastic,” I explain, my eyes locking on the blood stained rug. Shutting my eyes tightly, I groan. Blood. God, I hate blood. “If I said that I didn’t want to fly back to L.A. tomorrow morning, what would you say?” I ask, gasping for breath.

  “I’d say, get your shit,” Evan says, causing me to open my eyes and look at him. Walking over, he kneels in front of me. Turning, I meet his gaze, worry and concern filling his dar
k brown eyes. Smiling sadly, he gives both my knees a reassuring squeeze with his large hands. “I’ll let the rest of the security team know you and I will be taking the SUV and heading out.”

  Looking at him, I smile. A million questions run through my head. Instead of asking them, I nod my head, push to my feet, and get my shit. Getting the hell out of here now sounds like the best idea I have heard all night.

  Chapter Two

  Peeping Beach Bum

  “Wake up,” Evan says, shaking me. “We’re here.”

  Sitting up in my seat, I yawn. “About time.”

  Months ago, when I discreetly bought my grandmother’s house, I never really thought I would be able to spend a whole lot of time here. It’s not like I was looking to buy a house in Northern Michigan when I have a perfectly badass condo in California, right on the beach, where I have lived for two years. But, when I got word that my asshole father made the greedy decision to put her home and belongings into the hands of a real estate auction company, I had to do something. No matter where I lived, this always felt like home to me. Though, that was mostly because of my Nana. After losing her so suddenly, seeing her things go to the highest bidder was like she was dying all over again.

  After my cold-hearted father decided against having any type of funeral services, or the shady as fuck way he ‘forgot’ to notify me of her passing until weeks later, I couldn’t let him get away with this too.

  Gary Lachlan isn’t the best communicator. Or father. Or human being, in general. Hell, I’m lucky he didn’t send the newspaper obituary in my birthday card.

  Flinging open the door, I climb out and take in the red and white three story house while stretching my arms and legs. The paint is faded, and the place is in desperate need of TLC, but just seeing it, has a smile spreading across my face.

  Evan moves around the front of the vehicle, meeting my eyes, he arches a brow. “So you willingly bought this place?” he asks, his lips twitching in amusement. “As is?”

  “This house is a piece of my family history, you jackass.” Shoving him, I laugh. “Good history is priceless and hard to come by. I had tea parties on that porch. Even wrote my very first song here. It was about a purple cat named Patricia.”