I’d never told either of my parents the full version of my breakup story—mostly because I didn’t think they would believe that I’d written a top-forty hit that was stolen from me. Judging by what Lisa thinks of my guitar playing, I have to think I was right not to tell them.
The rain stops, but I wish it wouldn’t. Right now, I want it to pour. That way everyone else can feel like I’m feeling: like the world is totally out of my control. Maybe Lisa is right. Maybe I’m a washed-up musician and I should hang up my guitar for good. I shudder at the thought. No more playing or singing sounds like jail time to me.
The sky is only partially cloudy as I head through downtown, and when I arrive at Firehouse, I see Rose sitting on the outside patio.
She waves, and I head over, sitting at the table next to her.
“Just in time!” she says in a quiet whisper.
I squint. “Why are you whispering?”
She motions to the inside of the bar. There’s a sort of hanging plastic wall between us and the inside of the bar, and we can hear people talking at the table right inside, though they can’t see us.
“This situation is perfect for eavesdropping!” Rose says, grinning and pointing to her journal, open on the table in front of her.
“Is this another one of your ‘experiments’?” I ask.
“Shh,” she says, putting a finger to her lips. I tune in and listen to the voices behind the curtain.
“You kidding me, man? None of your friends have her number.”
Chills run through me. “It’s Jax!” I whisper.
Rose nods excitedly.
I stand up, but Rose puts her hand on my wrist.
“Wait just one minute,” she begs. “I want to hear what they have to say.”
I lean slightly in the direction of Jax, the low timbre of his voice a magnet pulling me through the curtain.
“Really?” I say sarcastically to Rose, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to make me wait?”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Maybe we’ll hear some juicy bits.”
With a sigh, I sit back down. “One minute,” I say.
I hear Jerry Malek clear his throat. “Look, I don’t know why you’re so into this girl anyway. She’s not your type.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, dickhead,” Jax shoots back. “I asked you for her number.”
“Maybe you should take the hint that if she’s not texting you, she doesn’t like you like that,” Malek retorts.
“Again, didn’t ask your opinion,” Jax growls. “Man, what’s with you lately? Everything you say has this attitude to it.”
“You’re imagining things, buddy. Like how good that girl is at guitar. She’s barely an average singer.”
Rose’s eyes bulge, and we make eye contact.
I clench and unclench my fists, anger ripping through me.
Standing up, I push my seat out.
“Listen, fuckface,” I hear Jax growl. “That’s about enough. Give me your phone. Unlocked, right now.”
“Or what?”
Jax clears his throat. “Don’t make a scene, Malek. One. Two.”
I act, swiping the curtain open, and see them squint at the sunlight pouring in.
“Ahem,” I say, my heart pounding. “I have an important message I need to deliver.”
“Oh yeah?” Jax says, his voice gravelly. “What’s that?”
Shooting Malek eyes of death, I walk over and sit in Jax’s lap.
Bringing my eyes back to Jax, I touch the back of his neck.
“The message is—hello. I missed you.”
“I missed you like hell, Harm,” he growls as he presses his lips into mine, sending butterflies all through my body.
“Fuck this, I’m fucking out,” I hear Malek say, but Jax doesn’t stop kissing me.
His lips are hot. Possessive. And he’s a damn good kisser.
He pulls back, and both of us take a breath.
“Wow,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah. Wow.”
“Why is kissing you so hot, Harm?” he asks playfully.
“Not sure. I’m not usually into PDA, to be honest,” I retort, running my hand through his hair. “It’s been a weird couple of days. You?”
He nods. “Same. And Jerry Malek here has been acting all weird.”
I shake my head. “Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Great,” he says, flagging down the server. “Let me order you a drink.”
“Should I sit on the seat?”
“No, you’re fine where you are.” He winks, wrapping his hand around my leg.
“Oh shoot! Rose!” I say. Leaning forward, I pull the curtain back. “Hey, you want to join us?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Nope. I’m going to write some stuff while I drink my cocktail. Keep chatting, though. This is great. Like a telenovela!”
12
Jax
A smile stays plastered on my face while Harmony holds on to the back of my neck. I’m flopped back in the chair, my muscles loose, my head touching her shoulder as she stays seated on my lap, directing the server where to drop her drink.
Harmony’s palm presses into my chest, and my head feels light and dizzy, this woman’s presence making my entire body buzz with endorphins.
There’s no other way to put it: she makes me high. She gives me that light-in-the-stomach feeling of walking on air whenever she’s around. There’s a hundred other people in the bar this Saturday night, but I don’t see anyone else.
I only see her.
Wow is right.
“Cheers.” She smiles sweetly, bringing up her glass of rose and handing me my whisky.
“Cheers,” I repeat. “To tomorrow. It’s finally here.”
We lock eyes as we take our respective sips, but it’s not the whisky I’m getting drunk off of.
It’s her.
She lights my heart on fire.
I’ve been out of jail for almost a year, and I was starting to think I might not ever be with a woman. Not that I didn’t have my share of them making passes at me. But none of them felt right.
Until Harmony. Cradling the back of her neck, I bring her to me for a deep kiss, tasting the rose on her lips. She purrs softly, and liquid heat rushes through my body as we release.
“So your friend just rushed out of here,” she comments, threading a hand through my hair.
“Jerry Malek? Yeah. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s been sort of a dick lately.”
“Yeah,” she shakes her head. “He wouldn’t even give me your number.”
My eyes bulge out of my head like an alien.
“You asked him for my number?”
She swallows. “Yes.”
Wide-eyed, I sip my whisky in disbelief. She continues, “He said the only way he would give me your number is if I went on a date with him.”
My heart pounds with anger and I bite my lower lip. “That damn son of a gun.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “With friends like that—”
“Who needs enemies,” I croak, finishing her sentence.
She nods, sipping her wine. “I feel like I’m in the same boat. My dad—for some reason he’s conspiring for me to not ever see you.”
My skin tingles, blood rushing to my face.
“Oh?” I say simply, prodding for more information.
“Yeah,” she nods. “My dad was the one who told Mason and Cole to intervene and keep us away from each other. And then my dad deleted your number from my phone!”
I swallow anger and then chase it with whisky, shaking my head. I crack the slightest of smiles. “I just assumed you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Glancing at my ear, she motions for me to move it closer so she can whisper into it.
Lips brushing my lobes, she whispers, “I want to do more than just talk with you. Although taking is nice.”
Her expression is positively devilish when she pulls back. She wiggles her eyebrows.
; I shrug. “I guess I would have just had to come to LaRisa’s next week again to find you.”
She drops her eyes, and her shoulders droop. Bringing her eyes back up, she stares out the window.
“You okay?”
Shaking her head, she chokes out the words, “My guitar is gone.”
My pulse races for her. “I don’t get it. Gone? You just had it the other night. It got stolen?”
She takes a deep breath. “No. My stepmom left it out in the rain. On purpose. Now it’s ruined.”
Her eyes flutter. I wrap my arms around her, and she presses her head against me, ear to my chest. Tears roll down her cheek.
“She said it was a lucky accident that my guitar is gone, and that I should focus on something sensible since I wasn’t going to make it as a singer.” Her voice shakes. “She also said I should stay away from you.”
My heart feels like it shatters as I loosen my arms wrapped around her.
“And what do you think about that?”
She clears her throat. “I think I like you. But you really do have to tell me about your past. And I’d rather know now. Just come out with it.”
I think about what Harmony has told me. “Let’s get out of here,” I retort.
“Out of here? Where would we go?”
“The sky cleared up. It’s beautiful out. We could go anywhere.”
“Where do you want to go?”
I shrug, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and leaving it on the table for the server.
“We could go anywhere. Let’s get on my bike and see where it takes us.”
13
Harmony
Taking me by the hand, Jax leads me out the door of Firehouse. I wave goodbye to Rose as I leave, heading to his motorcycle parked in the street.
This time, as I get on, he doesn’t have to give me any instruction. I know where to wrap my hands around him and can feel the full strength of his muscles through his T-shirt and jeans. I press into him with my tank top and shorts.
Clamping my hands down on him, the town feels like it’s flying by, but in slow motion somehow. My senses are heightened, like this is no ordinary ride.
The air flowing past my body feels therapeutic. I consider asking Jax where he’s taking me. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but as I move my jaw against his shoulder, I hesitate. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I feel like our communication is beyond words. Or maybe because I want to know what he’s got in store for me without my influence.
We pass the city limits, heading into the countryside, and the scenery turns more green.
Pressing my chin against him, I catch a glimpse of his focused face—with sunglasses on—in the side mirror. He looks hard, and everything about him is big. Big muscles, big chin, big sunglasses. Well, except his smile. His smirk is so slight it’s barely detectable. But I know it’s there.
Jax turns down a gravel road. A few hundred feet later, he pulls over. It’s not quite sunset and there’s still a healthy amount of natural light left.
Leaving the bike, we head toward Old Salt Creek.
Goosebumps tingle on my skin as Jax takes my hand, leading me down a narrow path. Trees and brush hem us in on either side. The sound of water trickling over rocks gets louder, and I lick my lips as I follow this man.
My heart drops as I consider how fearful everyone else seems to be of him. My stepmom, my dad, Cole and Mason—they all tried to play Keep Harmony away from Jax, like we were the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster or something. Were they all just overly paranoid?
Or were they trying to protect me like good family should?
My muscles tighten as the path narrows.
“Is this where you take all of your dates?” I ask, breaking the silence.
Smirking, Jax turns around. “No. Just you.”
The path narrows, and my hands become clammy. The sound of rushing water grows louder, canceling out the extra-loud pitter-patter of my heart.
The path turns and we loop around thick grass.
I realize, strange as it is, that I do trust Jax. Come what may.
Finally, Old Salt Creek comes into view, and my jaw drops at how beautiful it is.
My eyes widen, and I run toward the edge of the water.
The surface is sun-dappled, and I can even see minnows swimming a few inches deep in the water.
“Water so fresh you can taste it,” Jax says, putting a hand on my waist. I lean into him and sigh heavily.
“Have you always known about this place?”
He nods. “I come here about once every month or so. Just to get some peace and quiet. Think about things. It’s one of the few places where I can get away from . . .”
He trails off, and I turn back to him, laying my hand across his chest. Wanting to see his eyes, I push his sunglasses up and rest them on his forehead.
“Get away from what?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just to get away from it all,” he retorts.
“But that’s not what you were going to say.”
Stepping away from him, I cross my arms. “Say what you were thinking. Tell me.” I soften my tone, realizing what I just said came out harsh. “Please?” I arch an eyebrow. Running a hand over his forearm, I see his resistance dissolve.
He takes off his sunglass and puts them in his pocket.
“Honestly, in town, I have a reputation. I always feel like everyone, everywhere, knows my past. And that they’re judging me for it. But the trees don’t judge me. I know that sounds corny as hell. But I come here to feel more connected to the world. Whenever I leave, I feel ten times better.”
Staring off into the distance, he blows out a deep breath and then brings his gaze back to me. “Sometimes, I have a feeling like no one is on my side, you know?”
I nod vigorously. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like, who even cares about what I want?”
Stepping toward me, he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me into his body.
“What do you want?” he asks.
I blink a few times. “What do you even mean?”
“I mean, have you ever asked the world for what you want?”
I raise my eyebrows. “That sounds really new age.”
“It’s not,” he says resolutely, and then shrugs. “I did a lot of reading in . . .”
“Prison.” I finish his sentence.
Our foreheads press together, an eerie calmness coming over me.
“Right,” he says evenly and grins. “So tell me what you want. Pretend I’m a genie. I can grant you three wishes.”
Desire flares inside me as I feel his strong hands touching my hips. Heat builds between my legs, and his jaw hardens.
“I can only think of two things right now.” I swallow.
“Tell me.”
“I want to be a professional singer and musician.”
He nods. “Which you can definitely do if you put your energy into the right places.”
“And get better people around me,” I interject.
“No one believes in you right now. That’s tough.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Well. No one aside from me.”
“You really believe I can be a professional?”
He kisses me softly on my jawline. I arch my neck back for him, breathless.
“I don’t think. I know. Don’t listen to your damn stepmom. She doesn’t know shit about your playing.”
“Thank you.” I wrap my hands around his neck and feel my body flush with emotion from head to toe.
“And your second wish? What’s the other thing you want?”
His chest is level with my gaze, so I get up on my tippy-toes and whisper in his ear. “For my second wish, I would like you, Jax.”
His eyes gloss over, and I notice he skips a breath.
“Now that’s something I can definitely help you with.” He smiles and kisses me again.
14
Jax
Birds chirp and the wind rustles leaves in the trees. The sound of running water so
othes me to the bones, and it’s perfect.
But not as perfect as Harmony.
My hands on her hips, I kiss her so vigorously I worry I might break her. But with the way she bites my lower lip, I think my worries are misplaced.
Maybe I’m the one who should be worried about breaking.
“Wait,” she breathes, pulling way. “We can’t do this yet. I need you to tell me what it was for.”
My insides curdle, and I swallow a ball of anxiety.
I’ve been out of jail for over a year, but I’ve rarely talked about it with anyone.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s sit.”
I nod at a black rock in the middle of the creek, easily accessible by crossing other stepping stones. Holding her hand, I help Harmony cross to the middle and take a seat. She tilts her head and looks at me with wide eyes.
“I haven’t told you much about my family yet.”
“You haven’t. Tell me.”
I heave a deep breath. “My mom moved away when I was young, and my dad was in and out of prison when I was little. So my grandparents raised me and my little sister.”
“How old is she?”
“About four years younger. She’d be twenty now. And I’m twenty-four. Anyway, when I was nineteen, she got really sick. We took her in for all these tests, but the doctors didn’t know what to make of her symptoms: constant headaches, tingling in her appendages, and on the worst days—blurry vision. No one knew. Sometimes, I’d get home late from my shift at the restaurant and she’d be crying quietly in her room. I felt so pathetic, so powerless to help her. It ate away at me.”
Harmony lowers her head. “I’m sorry about that. So . . . what does this have to do with prison?”
“I’m getting to that. I was working in a restaurant called Bambino’s. It’s closed down now. But it was a fancy place, and the business people who came through Blackwell would eat there a lot. It was getting to me, though. Almost every night, going home and hearing my sister Kennedee cry. So I came up with a plan. I was working with Jerry Malek at the time. He thought I was insane. But I needed to do something.”
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