by Devney Perry
But first I’d spend a week in Montana saying goodbye.
I loathed goodbyes, so I avoided them.
Not this time.
The knot in my stomach tightened with every passing hour. When the pilot announced we were beginning our descent, I shot out of my seat, raced to the bathroom and puked.
“You okay?” Nixon asked, handing me a piece of gum as I emerged and took my seat.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Sure?”
“Just nerves.”
Hell, I hadn’t been this nervous since Hush Note’s early days. I didn’t get keyed up before shows anymore, not after years and years of practice. Besides, the moments on stage were the best part of this life. Playing for thousands of people live or playing for millions of people on television, my hands never shook. My stomach was rock solid.
But this? Returning home to my family. Returning home for a funeral. Returning home to him.
I was terrified.
Nixon’s hand closed over my forearm once more, and he didn’t let go until the plane touched down.
“I don’t want to be here,” I confessed as we taxied across the runway.
“Want me to stay?” His eyes, clearer after his nap, were full of tenderness.
He’d stay if I said yes. He’d be miserable and bored, but he’d stay. A part of me wanted to use him as a buffer between me and my family, but his presence and fame would only make things harder.
My face wasn’t as recognizable on the street as his, and I didn’t get half of his attention because I wasn’t one of the guys. I wasn’t the lead on stage, singing into a microphone as I played a guitar. Nixon had been People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive three years ago. This year’s reigning man was Jonas.
The last thing we needed this week were swooning fans wanting autographs.
I wanted to get in and out of Montana without much fuss. I was here to pay my respects to Nan and then I was going home.
Alone.
“No, but thanks.” The plane stopped and the pilot came out to open the door as I collected my things. “Where will you go? Home to Seattle?”
“Nah. I’m feeling somewhere tropical. Hawaii’s close.”
“Please don’t drink so many dirty bananas that you forget to pick me up. Next Monday. Should I write it down?”
“No, but you’d better make sure Ethan has that in his calendar.”
“I will.” I laughed, bending to kiss his stubbled cheek. “Thanks for flying with me.”
“Welcome.”
“You’re a good guy, Nix.”
He put a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell. It’s easier to get women into bed when they think you’re the bad boy.”
“Annnd you’re also a pig.” I frowned as the attendant came over, batting her eyelashes as she handed Nixon a cocktail. When had he even ordered that drink? Maybe I should make him stay with me and force him to be sober for a week. “Don’t go crazy. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m a rock star, baby.” He flashed me a smile, the devilish one he saved for his fans and women. It was the stage smile that masked his demons. “I’m fucking awesome.”
Lies. He was far from awesome, but I wasn’t sure how to help him. Not when he was on a mission to lose himself in sex and booze and drugs like he did every summer.
“Thanks again.” I waved. “Enjoy your flight attendant.”
“Enjoy your time home.”
My stomach pitched at his parting words. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed toward the door. At the base of the jet’s stairs, my suitcase was waiting with the pilot.
I nodded a farewell and fished a pair of sunglasses from my bag, sliding them on before crossing the tarmac. The path from the private runway to the terminal was marked by yellow arrows on the charcoal asphalt.
The sunshine blazed hot on my shoulders as I pulled the hood on my black jacket over my blond hair. It was the best way to keep from being recognized, and with the mood I was in, it would do no good to be spotted by a fan today.
The summer breeze blew across my face, bringing that clean mountain air to my nose. We’d spent too many days breathing recycled air in buses and planes and hotels. I might have traded my country upbringing for a life in the city and preferred it as such, but this fresh, pure air was unbeatable.
Montana had a wholly unique smell of mountains and majesty.
I reached the terminal door too soon and stepped into the air conditioning. Ethan had reserved a rental car and a hotel suite for me, and as soon as I was checked into my room, I was planning on a long, hot shower. Then I’d unpack and go through the hotel move-in routine I’d perfected over the years.
My toiletries would be lined up beside the bathroom sink. I’d put my clothes in drawers and stow my suitcase in the closet. Then I’d search for a TV channel in a foreign language. I didn’t speak a foreign language, but I liked the background noise to drown out any sounds from the hallway.
It was a trick I’d learned in Berlin on our first European tour. These days, I couldn’t sleep in a hotel room without the TV blaring some drama in Spanish, French or German.
If it was loud enough, I’d be able to cry without fear someone would overhear.
I spotted the rental car desk, but before I could aim my feet in that direction, a familiar face caught my eye.
The world blurred.
Standing in the lobby of the airport was the boy I’d left behind.
Graham Hayes.
Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He’d grown into a man. A handsome, breathtaking man who belonged on the cover of People beside Jonas and Nix.
He stood motionless with his eyes locked on me. The airport had been remodeled since I’d left, but the spot where he stood was almost exactly the place where I’d left him nine years ago. He’d been standing at the base of a staircase, watching me walk away.
I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking he’d been waiting here for my return.
What the hell was Graham doing here? I wasn’t ready to face him yet. I wasn’t ready to face any of them yet, but especially Graham.
He broke out of his stare and unglued his feet. His strides were easy and confident as he walked my way. His square jaw was covered in a well-trimmed beard, the shade matching the brown of his hair. It was longer than how he’d worn it as a teenager. Sexier. The man he’d become was beyond any version that I’d imagined during many lonely hotel nights.
I gulped as he neared. My heart raced.
This was not the plan. I was supposed to rent a car, go to my hotel and regroup. I needed time to regroup, damn it, and time to prepare.
Graham’s long legs in dark jeans ate up the distance between us. The sound of his boots on the floor pounded with the same thud of my heart.
Before I was ready, he stood in front of me.
“Quinn.” His voice was smooth and deep, lower than I remembered. He used to say my name with a smile, but there wasn’t a hint of one on his face.
“Hi, Graham.”
He wore a Hayes-Montgomery Construction T-shirt. My mother had sent me one of the same for Christmas two years ago.
He was the Hayes.
My brother, Walker, was the Montgomery.
The black cotton stretched across his broad chest. I’d spent many nights with my ear against that chest, but it hadn’t been as muscled back then. It had held promise, though, of the man he’d become.
The man he had become.
Everything about Graham seemed to have changed, even those golden-brown eyes. The vibrant color was the same as I saw in my dreams, but they were colder now. Distant. A change I couldn’t blame on time.
No, that one was on me.
“Let’s go.” He ripped the handle of my suitcase from my grip.
“I have a car reserved.” I pointed to the rental kiosk, but Graham turned and walked toward the doors. “Graham, I have a car.”
“Cancel it,” he clipped over a shoulder. “Your mom asked me to pick you up.”
&
nbsp; “Fine,” I grumbled, yanking my phone from my pocket. Texting Ethan while keeping up with Graham’s punishing pace was difficult, and I looked up just in time to stop myself from crashing into a wall.
Oh, hell. It wasn’t just a wall. It was a wall holding a framed Hush Note poster, and there I was, in the center. My hair was thrown back as I pounded on the drums. Jonas was singing into a microphone while Nixon riffed on his guitar.
It was the poster our label had made for tour promo last year, and the airport had embellished it with a banner strung over the top.
Welcome to Bozeman.
Home of Quinn Montgomery, Hush Note’s Grammy Award-Winning Drummer.
Graham paused and looked back, likely wondering what was taking me so long. When he spotted the poster, he shot it a glare that might have incinerated the paper had it not been protected behind glass. Then he marched through the door, his strides even faster.
I jogged to keep up but was too far away to stop him from throwing my suitcase into the bed of a truck—an actual throw far more damaging than I’d ever seen from airline personnel.
“Get in.” He jerked his chin to the passenger door.
“Okay.” I bit my tongue.
Since my rental car was out, my new plan was to survive this ride to the hotel. Graham was upset, and I’d let it blow over. Ten minutes, fifteen tops, and we’d go our separate ways. I was here this week for Nan and causing drama with Graham would have upset her.
So I climbed in his truck and took a deep breath.
Graham’s scent surrounded me. As a boy, he’d smelled fresh and clean. It was still there, familiar and heartbreaking, but with a spicy undercurrent of musk and cologne and man. The heady, intoxicating smell wasn’t going to make this trip to the hotel any easier.
Before I had my seat belt buckled, Graham was behind the wheel and racing away from the curb.
I swallowed and braved conversation. “So, um . . . how have you been?”
His jaw ticked in response, but thankfully the radio filled the silence.
The Sirius XM Countdown continues with “Sweetness” by Hush Note. A song that’s been number one on our countdown for—
Graham stabbed the off button with his finger.
I faced the window.
So Graham wasn’t just upset. He was furious. Clearly nine years apart hadn’t turned me into a fond memory.
“I have a reservation at the Hilton Garden Inn. If you wouldn’t mind dropping me—”
“You’re going home.”
Right. End of discussion. Graham was doing a favor for my mother since my family would be busy on a Sunday morning. He’d been sent to retrieve me before I could disappear to my hotel.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave the East Coast.
The drive through Bozeman was tense. I kept my gaze fixed outside, taking in the new buildings. The town had boomed over the years. Where there had once been open fields, there were now office complexes, shopping centers and restaurants.
It wasn’t until we approached downtown that the streets became more familiar and I was able to anticipate Graham’s turns. When we reached my childhood neighborhood, I marveled at the homes. Had they always been this small?
Then we were parked in front of my parents’ home. My home.
Finally, something that hadn’t changed. Slate-blue siding, white trim, black shutters and Mom’s red geraniums planted in a whiskey barrel by the front door.
“Thanks for dropping me off,” I told Graham, risking a glance his way. “Just like old times.”
He’d always insisted on dropping me off at my house even though he lived next door.
Except back then, he would have smiled and kissed me goodbye.
But that was before.
Before I’d broken his heart.
Before he’d shattered mine.
Chapter Two
Graham
Nine years and I still wasn’t ready to see her.
Maybe if I’d actually had nine years without constant reminders of Quinn, facing her in the airport wouldn’t have felt like a goddamn sucker punch. But there’d been no escaping her, not with Hush Note’s music everywhere. No matter how quickly I turned off the radio or flipped the television channel, it was there, haunting me.
Now she was here to torture me in person. There’d be no compartmentalizing her memory and shoving it into a dark corner this week. Especially not today as she climbed out of my truck.
I’d known this day would come. That eventually she’d return to Montana and we’d have to face each other. Instead of coming to terms with that inevitability, I’d built up nine years of dread.
Every Thanksgiving or Christmas, I’d wonder if this would be the year she’d come home. I refused to ask her family, but my mother or her mother would deliberately drop comments to make sure I knew that Quinn had found some reason to stay away.
She’s dropped out of school to join a band.
They’re playing in Australia for the holidays.
She’s working on an album.
Bullshit excuses. Quinn hadn’t wanted to come back. She had her rich and famous life to live—her and that fucking band.
Quinn had turned her back on everything from her youth. Her family. Her friends.
Me.
She’d forgotten us. Nine years was a long damn time to hold on to anger, but try as I might, I just couldn’t let it go. The rage simmered under my skin; no cooler now than it had been when she’d first left.
I shoved open the truck’s door and slammed it hard before going to the back and hefting out her suitcase.
“Thanks.” She gave me a faint smile, reaching for her luggage.
I walked past her to the sidewalk, dismissing her as I strode to the front door, her suitcase in my grip.
Her footsteps followed. “I can take it.”
“No.” My lip curled at her musical voice.
In our years apart, I hadn’t forgotten that smooth, sultry sound. It was a siren’s call, alluring and charming. Irritating. I willed myself to block it out and walked faster.
There was no point in knocking at the front door. It was always unlocked because only a sick and demented individual would break into Pastor Montgomery’s house on a Sunday afternoon.
Chatter filled my ears and the smell of a charcoal barbeque drifted from the kitchen.
Son of a bitch. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be busy? That was why I’d been stuck with the job of retrieving Quinn, wasn’t it? Because the Montgomery crew would be long at church, talking with everyone who wanted to pay their respects. Mom and Dad wanted to stay too, for moral support.
This house was full of liars. Well, one meddler.
My mother.
I threw Quinn’s suitcase down and stalked past the living room toward the back of the house where the kitchen and adjoining dining room were teaming with people. The patio door was open, and Dad was manning the grill.
“Oh, Graham.” Mom smiled when she spotted me, then her eyes darted over my shoulder. “Where is Qui—Quinn!”
The room went silent and all eyes swung my way, sweeping past me to where Quinn was hanging back.
“Hi.” She lifted a hand and gave an awkward smile.
No one moved.
Quinn’s hand hung in the air as everyone stared. The smile on her face fell as seconds stretched into what felt like hours.
Guess I wasn’t the only one not prepared for today’s reunion.
I cleared my throat and the room sprang into action.
“Welcome home.” Quinn’s mother, Ruby, flew across the kitchen, tossing a towel aside before pulling Quinn into a long hug. “You look . . .” Ruby let Quinn go, and a flash of regret crossed her face. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Bradley appeared in the hallway beside Quinn. His eyes were glassy, like he’d excused himself from the crowd to weep for his mother in private.
“Hi, Dad.” Quinn repeated her awkward wave.
/> “Quinn.” Bradley’s voice was hoarse and rough as he scanned her from head to toe, like he didn’t believe she was really standing here.
Just like I’d done at the airport.
“I’m sorry about Nan,” Quinn whispered.
“She’s in a better place.” Bradley hesitated a step, then another, before pulling Quinn into a stiff hug.
Ruby swiped at her eyes and placed her hands on their shoulders.
This was a private moment, a reunion that didn’t need an audience. Why were we here? I shot a frown to Mom.
She shrugged and made her way toward Quinn, waiting until Bradley and Ruby released her. Then she pulled Quinn into a firm hug. “You look so beautiful. All grown up. And that nose ring is so cute.”
I forced my gaze away from Quinn’s button nose. Cute was not the word. Sexy. Tempting. Those were the words to describe the tiny silver loop in Quinn’s left nostril.
When had she gotten it pierced? Before or after the phone call that had crushed my heart?
That nose ring was going to be my reminder. It would do me no good to fall into Quinn’s orbit. Been there, done that. She wasn’t the same girl I had known. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. She wasn’t perfect in every way. So what that she’d gotten more beautiful?
My Quinn was gone. This was the Quinn I saw on TV.
A stranger.
And I’d been forced to watch her transformation from afar.
As a young man, I’d planned for Quinn to be by my side. We’d shared the naïve dream that high school sweethearts could grow old together.
When the youthful softness of her face faded to a womanly grace, I was supposed to have had a front-row seat, watching through a shared bathroom mirror. When her hair had reached toward the small of her back, I should have been the man to toy with the ends. When her body had tightened, when she’d become this lithe woman, she was supposed to have been in my bed.
Naïve wasn’t strong enough a word.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Mom stood on her toes to kiss my cheek.
“Everyone was too busy to pick her up, huh?”
“We were busy. Church ended earlier than expected.”