Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2)

by Mira Bailee

  One second, Devon is standing a couple feet from the guy. The next, he’s in his face. “We’re done here,” he says. “Get out.”

  “Let me know when you’re done with the next one. I can take good care of her too.”

  I cringe with revulsion, and Devon lunges at Wayne, punching him with a hell of a right hook. Just as quickly, Wayne’s friend pushes Devon back, but he responds fast. The sound of Devon’s fist hitting slick skin echoes through the room, and he shoves the guy down. Seth and his friend are there kicking him now while Wayne tries to get ahold of Devon. He gets one shot in, hitting Devon in the face. Devon hardly flinches, but I do. It’s all happening so fast. I turn back in time to see Devon slam the back of Wayne’s head into a wall, and then four bouncers come running in, separating the guys and yelling.

  One of them sees Devon, and I expect him to ask what happened. Instead he says, “What the hell are you doing here? We told you if this happens again…”

  “Don’t worry. I was just leaving.”

  Devon walks out of the VIP room leaving everyone without a goodbye, including me.

  I rush out behind him, follow him down the hall, through the crowd, and down the stairs. As I push through the sea of bodies downstairs, I’m fuming. What the hell happened? And why did he leave me behind like that? I catch sight of the exit, and shove my way through in a rush to escape the crowd and breathe fresh air again.

  I get outside and turn down the sidewalk in time to see Devon look back toward me. Wayne got him in the lip. It’s split and bleeding.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’ll find my own way out,” I yell at him.

  He stops walking and turns around toward me.

  “What was that?” I ask, catching up to him. My legs wobble in my heels. I want to hold onto Devon for balance, but I’ve hit the last straw of this ridiculous night. The drug use. The nasty guy in the hall. The fucking bar brawl. A bunch of adults who have no sense of responsibility. Of decency. I’m pissed off and don’t even want to touch him.

  Devon answers me, “A couple of assholes holding a grudge. Let’s go.” He stomps off toward our hotel, and I struggle to keep pace.

  “Those guys? Your friends? They were…” I look around to see we have an audience from those lining the sidewalk. I can hear the low voices of people asking, “Is that Devon Stone?” and “Who’s that girl?” We need to get to the hotel before we create a scene.

  We continue on in angry silence. I’d die this second if the paparazzi showed up. Devon with his busted lip and his drunken date. The stories they could make up… Inside the hotel, we silently walk back to the elevator. It’s filled with tension as we wait to get up to our floor. But I refuse to speak first. Devon is the one who needs to explain.

  The doors slide open and he walks out first. I follow him back into the room. When he turns back toward me, I can see his lip is starting to swell. I shouldn’t–I should just be angry and not give a damn–but I go to the kitchen and grab a towel and ice. Devon drops into one of the couches and stares out the window. The view of him is intense. Against the white leather, Devon–decked out in his dark colors and sporting the aftermath of his fight–looks like some sort of villain. Hot and enraged.

  I bring him the ice but sit in a different chair, crossing my arms.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asks.

  “Not that. You think I’m an idiot? What happened back there? Who were those people? And your very best friend? The one with stolen drugs that he snorted right there in front of me? What the hell was that? You can’t pretend you wouldn’t have known how uncomfortable that would make me, yet you brought me in there anyway?” I’m drunk and without a filter, so I keep spouting out all my thoughts. “And then those bouncers that yelled at you? They knew you. And they knew you as a problem. Obviously, that embarrassing scene wasn’t the first time for you, was it? And then you have the audacity to walk out on me, leaving me there–with those people.”

  He holds the ice to his lip. “And you handled it fine, didn’t you? Imagine if all your problems were first-page headlines on top of everything else? How the hell else do you react when shit’s constantly blowing up all around you?”

  “But you create your own first-page headlines. You put yourself in the news, every time. You probably wouldn’t be dealing with all this if you picked better friends.”

  “Yeah. And the world is full of shitty people making shitty decisions. We aren’t all as perfect as you, are we?”

  I lean down to take my heels off, disregarding Devon’s personal jabs at me.

  “But even if I can’t escape the old me, at least it’s not me anymore. You of all people should be able to understand that.”

  I open my mouth to object but close it again. He did decline the drugs. And the fight really wasn’t his fault. He was defending Seth and me…and Kennedy. I suppose I should feel better, but is this where my standards lie now?

  Devon’s phone rings and he tosses the towel onto the coffee table and reaches into his pocket to retrieve it. It’s late. Who could be calling? It’s practically a one-sided conversation after Devon’s initial “Hello”. He listens for a minute, says “Thanks”, and hangs up.

  “We have an address.”

  “What?”

  “Melody Hastings. Name and address. Tomorrow we can find my mom.”

  Too much is happening right now, I can’t sort through my thoughts. That’s fantastic news, but that doesn’t resolve everything that happened tonight. “Great.”

  “It is great, Olivia. We’re getting somewhere. Not even your obsessive compulsive planning would have made it this easy. So cheer the hell up.”

  When valet brings the car to us the next morning, I take the opportunity to retrieve my phone and reassemble it. Once it turns on, I’m relieved I still have half a battery. I smooth out the skirt of my green sundress and settle into my seat. The mindless distraction will be useful on the long car ride. I don’t know what to do about Devon right now. How am I supposed to be fine with everything that happened last night? Yet, at the same time, I feel guilty–like I’m overreacting. On top of it all, today is going to be huge. Devon meeting his mom for the first time? How’s he going to react? And then he’ll need to tell Kaidan, and who knows how that will go? And through it all, what am I supposed to do? I want to be there for him, but it’s all so far out of my control. So for now, I’ll be the quiet companion at his side. A very nervous quiet companion.

  As Devon pulls away from the hotel, my phone beeps to alert me to a new voicemail. I listen and it’s the same as before, only a different voice and a different company. This one is some planning agency called Elite Affairs, and they’re excited to have me join their team. I’ve never heard of them, yet the message made it sound like I was already hired. This is too weird.

  I hang up and look at Devon. His black t-shirt hugs his body, and I’m mesmerized by the way his sleeve stretches around his bicep. I want those arms around me again. My gaze trails to his hands, and then I look up at his face. He’s so gorgeous. Why does he have to be stubborn and complicated as well?

  I take a deep breath. Get over last night. Pretend it never happened. It was just one more bump in our roller coaster.

  “I’ve been getting strange phone calls,” I say.

  “Yeah?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

  “Well, two of them, so far. People–event planning agencies–they want me to come work for them. They don’t even know me, but it’s like they aren’t inquiring about an interview. They sound like I already have the position.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Or not at all. “How so?”

  “You worked a Stone party. That’s what happens.” His voice lacks tone and interest.

  “But I hardly worked. And I abandoned the job before the party was even over.”

  “They don’t care about any of that. You have connections now that others dream of.”

  Is he serious? Because I know some rich people, that�
�s all I need to get a job now? The thought of it sounds fantastic. Maybe it won’t be such a burden finding steady work. As I consider how much easier it can be, I feel my shoulders relax and some of the tension fade away.

  “Are you worried about today?” I ask. His shoulders are stiff, and his entire posture is rigid.

  Devon speeds up to get through a yellow light before it turns red. “I’m fine.”

  “If you want to talk about it—”

  “Can I drive? Not really in the mood for conversation.”

  I snap my mouth shut. He’s acting cold, and I return to our argument last night. We never settled it, and now it seems to be strapped in the backseat, filling the whole car with tension.

  During the first hour, I watch as this Monday morning comes to life. The streets grow busier, and we power through the traffic in silence. We make it through the morning, and finish off with coffee and bagels and more silence.

  During the second hour, Devon blares industrial rock, and I stare at my phone. I’m reminded of the miserable looking old, married couples at Maddie’s bar. Their focus on different things even though they’re sitting right beside each other. The thought makes me sad.

  During the third hour, I’ve grown sick of the charade already. I jam my finger on the power button of his stereo, throwing us into a deafening quiet.

  “I’m sorry. Okay?” If saying it will put things back to normal between us, then fine. I’ll say it.

  “For what?”

  I sigh. “I’m sorry for not understanding all you’ve gone through. I know you were into…things…in the past. And I know you stopped doing them. I can assume you weren’t supported much by family and friends, so the fact you were able to clean up and be a better man…that’s something that should be acknowledged and appreciated.”

  He subtly nods. “Anything else?”

  “I’m sorry for being mad at you for your friend’s actions. And for defending that same friend. I mean, fist fights aren’t exactly the solution for everything, but you were doing what you felt you had to.”

  “He insulted you too.”

  “And he insulted Kennedy, but I’d rather not wonder which of us you attacked him for.”

  I shouldn’t have said that. What a dumb thing for me to mention. Devon’s glare confirms he feels the same way.

  “And I’m sorry for saying that. Of course you were defending me. And not…her.”

  He laughs but doesn’t respond.

  “And you?”

  “Me what?”

  “I just apologized for everything I can think of. I think it’s your turn.”

  He furrows his eyebrows. “But you admitted I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Forget it. I turn back toward the window. I really don’t feel like fighting again.

  “I apologize for not warning you about the guys and putting you in an uncomfortable situation. Let them do things their way, and you do things your way. Keeps the peace.”

  I look at him, and when his gaze catches mine he adds his sexy grin to his apology.

  “What about the part where you stormed out and ditched me?”

  “Sure. That too. Does that cover everything?” He puts one hand out for me to take and I weave my fingers through his.

  I stare at our interlocking fingers. I guess things could have gone worse last night. But aside from a cut lip, everything’s fine. We’re fine.

  * * *

  By the time we reach the little suburban town of Bandon, the sun is setting, and my body is making it apparent how long the drive was. My legs are asleep and my neck is stiff. I bend my head to the side, trying to stretch out the tired muscles, but then Devon reaches over and rubs my shoulders and my neck, and I find myself warming under his touch.

  “This is exactly what I expected,” he says as he navigates the neighborhood streets. It’s late in the afternoon. Kids are playing outside. Dogs are being walked. “I always knew I’d find her in some suburban utopia, happily living far from the spotlight.”

  My pulse quickens as I realize this is it. All this driving, and all the drama along the way, and we’re here. I steady my breathing and look out the window. It seems like such a peaceful atmosphere. Devon follows the GPS and finally pulls to the side of the street, parking. We weren’t prepared for what we find.

  We’ve arrived at a grungy apartment complex with overgrown landscaping and a half-dozen cars parked in the lot in front of it. Devon and I get out and walk toward the building.

  “The address said ‘E’. I assumed that meant ‘East’,” Devon says.

  He looks disappointed. He’d built up a specific image, and this wasn’t it at all.

  I take his hand, “Hey, don’t judge a woman by her crappy apartment.” He’s now seen mine. He knows sometimes we have to get the best that’s available to us.

  He squeezes my fingers. “Thank you.”

  We find apartment E and knock. My heart is bursting through my ribs and I shift my weight from one leg to the other as we wait for a response. From inside, I hear a lock turn and a chain unlatch. I gulp, and the door opens.

  Standing in front of us is definitely not Devon’s mother. She looks about my age. Her dark hair is styled in a pixie cut, and her ears are lined with little silver hoops. As we take the sight of her in, she evaluates us as well.

  Then she slams the door shut.

  I look at Devon to gauge his reaction. He pounds his fist on the door. “I need to talk to you.”

  “You have the wrong place,” she says, her voice muffled through the door.

  “Not likely. And we’re not leaving until we talk.” He stands their clenching his fist. We wait.

  Several seconds go by when she opens the door again.

  “Where’s Melody Hastings?” Devon spits out before she can close us off again.

  The girl’s face seems to pale at the sound of the name. We’re definitely in the right place.

  “Melody Hastings is dead. You know that, Devon.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  My thoughts are a flutter. He was told she was dead. She really is dead. But he’d believed it wasn’t true, and he’d gotten so close to proving it. My heart aches for him, but the girl said “Devon”. She knows him. She’s hiding more.

  Devon’s chest rises and falls like he’s trying to calm himself. “Who the hell are you then?”

  The girl’s dark eyes narrow and she lifts her chin. “Lex–her daughter.”

  Lex, her daughter. Devon, her son.

  Oh shit.

  Devon seems to piece it together at the same time. He shakes his head. “You’re telling me you’re my sister–”

  “Half-sister. But blood does not make a person family.” Lex leans an arm against the doorframe, another gesture to block us out. “Which is why you should leave.”

  She starts to close the door, but Devon wedges his foot in the opening. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me—”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything. You’ve gone twenty-eight years without knowing or caring. What difference does it make?” She pushes the door into his foot, but Devon doesn’t move.

  “The difference is, I just drove 800 miles to find her. And I find you instead–my sister.” He moves back a step, the truth in his own words leaving him momentarily speechless.

  “I’m not your sister. Don’t ever refer to me as your sister again. All the times I could’ve tracked you and Kaidan down in California, I didn’t. Why? Because I have no use for brothers either. I don’t want any part of the Stone family. There’s nothing here for you. Now go.”

  She slams the door, and I hear the locks move back in place. Devon turns and leans into the wall for a moment before pushing off of it and storming out of the building.

  * * *

  Outside, Devon pulls out his phone and starts dialing a number. He paces with the phone pressed to his ear before hanging up with no answer. “Dammit.”

  He dials another and waits. He hangs up. “Fucking answer, you prick!” />
  He walks to his car, stopping at the back of it. He slams his fist into the hood.

  “Devon! Stop. Talk to me.” I rush to him. “We can talk about this.”

  He kicks at the Camaro’s fender, and I squeeze between Devon and the car. I highly doubt he’ll hit me too, and I don’t think he’d be happy if he dented his car out of anger.

  Devon stares through me at first. His thoughts are so far elsewhere, the look on his face is as if he doesn’t recognize me. But then he focuses on me and meets my gaze. His hands find my hips as he lifts me onto the trunk. Stepping forward, he kisses me. He pauses for a second, taking me in, and then rushes for my lips again. His mouth crashes into mine as his hands press into my thighs and then rub their way up my back over the thin fabric of my dress.

  I’m breathless when he pulls away. His powerful hands still warming my skin with their electric touch.

  Devon laughs and I’m confused.

  “What?” Has he lost his mind?

  “My mother’s fucking dead, and I have a sister.” He runs his hand through his hair.

  “What do we do now?” I ask.

  He stares off into the distance and then looks back toward the apartments. “What do we do now…” he repeats.

  “I think we should talk,” I say, trying to get him to focus. “We can make a new plan.”

  He shrugs. “And do what? There’s nothing here. I’m done.”

  “There has to be something you can do–something I can do. At least tell me how I can help fix this?”

  He leaves me and gets into his car. I follow and buckle my seatbelt. As he pulls away from the road, he looks at me. “You can distract me.”

  Devon drives south along the coast and stops at the first hotel we find. He books a room, and even the beauty of the glamorous beachside suite doesn’t ease my mood. I know I should make him talk about all this. I should come up with a solution for this mess, but what could possibly fix this blindsided blow? He can’t ignore it. Once you know the truth, it won’t go away. Knowing Lex exists? He can’t simply forget that.