ALMOST HOME

by Williams, Mary J.

  “Bullshit. Ugh!” Kane scrubbed a hand over his face. “You weren’t to blame, Joplin.”

  “I was in charge,” she reminded him, a lump forming in her gut.

  “And if not for you, for all the fires you put out and the lemon drops you crunched, we wouldn’t have survived six months on tour, let alone the entire year.”

  “Crunching lemon drops is hard on the teeth,” Joplin muttered. “I suck on them.”

  “Well, Razor’s Edge sucked, too. As friends and clients. We were five selfish shits. As head shit, I know.” Kane met her gaze. “No offense, because you love him, and I hate to kick a guy when he’s sick, but Danny Graham wasn’t exactly a prince.”

  Another time, Joplin would have let Kane’s criticism of her uncle slide. But she felt sad and emotional. And needed to vent.

  “Don’t say a word about Danny. You didn’t know him.”

  “Exactly,” Kane said. “Ostensibly, he was our manager, but he was never around. You did all the work. I’m sure he took credit for the hit records and sold-out concerts. The easy part.”

  “Without Danny, there would have been no record deal.” Joplin poked Kane with her foot. “No hit songs. No monthly royalty checks.”

  “Dandy,” Kane said, poking her back. “When things went tits up, where was our savior? Did he face the media, or did you? Who made you the sacrificial lamb?”

  Part of what Kane said was true. For a good reason.

  “At any given time, there are a half dozen or more Danny Graham-represented acts out on the road. Because he can’t be everywhere, he hires and trains surrogates,” Joplin explained. “They have the same responsibility I did. I wasn’t the only one.”

  “You’re his only niece,” Kane said.

  “I didn’t want special treatment.” Joplin took a deep, calming breath. “And we veered from the subject.”

  “Delilah?”

  “No,” Joplin scoffed. “I don’t care about her—now. Tell me what happened after the quickie wedding and quickie divorce.”

  Kane’s marriage lasted three months. Joplin only knew because, at the time, anything to do with Razor’s Edge was still big news. And the countess milked her brush with celebrity for everything it was worth.

  Didn’t get her a reality show, Joplin thought with satisfaction.

  “In the first year, I tried rehab twice and failed both times. In between, I drank. A lot. Lost a lot of time, too. Didn’t end up in jail—one saving grace.”

  “You never considered calling me for help?”

  “All the time,” he said. “I didn’t give in to the temptation—one of the only things I take pride in from those days.”

  Kane stood, stretched, then paced the room, slow and methodical.

  “You’re clean. Sober. Thank God. How? Why?”

  “I wish there was a moment I could point to, Joplin. The exact instant something clicked in my brain, and I knew the third time in rehab would be a success.” Kane sighed. “I can’t. However, when I walked out of the facility, I was twenty-eight days sober. Then I hit twenty-nine. Then thirty. And three years later, I haven’t stopped counting. I have stopped alcohol and drugs.”

  “And I always believed you were the arrogant one.” Joplin sighed. “I wanted to fix you. Me, me, me. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t look past what I wanted. You had to get there on your own.”

  “You didn’t act out of selfishness, Joplin.” Kane knelt next to her, touching her face. “You acted out of love.”

  Joplin pulled back the blanket, a silent invitation to join her. Kane didn’t hesitate.

  “I don’t have any right. But…”

  “What?” he prompted.

  “I’m proud of you, Kane.”

  “Pretty proud of myself.” The kiss he pressed to her lips lingered, sweet with a touch of promise. “And you have every right to feel the same. You saw me at my worst but never gave up. Knowing you believed I could do better helped get me through some rough times.”

  “Do you feel like telling me more?”

  “What do you want to know?” Kane asked.

  “The last three years.” Joplin laughed. “Tell me everything.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ♫~♫~♫

  JOPLIN POURED THE water into the machine, closed the lid, and hit brew. She wasn’t great in the kitchen, but she could make a mean pot of coffee.

  “Tired?” Kane asked as he finished making the bed.

  “Nope.” In search of a mug, Joplin opened a cupboard. Finding cereal—the healthy kind—and dried pasta, she moved to the next. “Are you?”

  “Nope.” Kane sent her a smug grin. “I have outstanding stamina. As you found out.”

  The man was shameless. Joplin let out a happy sigh. She couldn’t remember the last time she had sex all night long. The reason? She’d never had sex all night long. Never wanted to until now.

  To be fair, they spent some of the time talking. Since Kane shared what he’d been up to for the past five years, Joplin did the same. Not as dramatic, or harrowing, she was proud of the business she’d forged.

  “I love being in charge.”

  “You always were pushy,” he teased.

  “I was decisive,” Joplin corrected, sticking out her tongue for good measure. “Still am.

  Then, because Kane asked, she filled him in on her visits with the other members of Razor’s Edge. She didn’t feel she broke anyone’s confidence.

  “How is Jax really? Besides wildly successful,” Kane had asked without a trace of envy.

  Kane’s question opened the door for Joplin to ask him why he gave up music entirely. It was one thing to abandon his professional career—understandable considering the way Razor’s Edge ended. But singing and songwriting were part of his DNA.

  The times Kane and Jax jammed together to pass the time on a long plane flight, without an audience, just for themselves, the joy in every note he played was unmistakable.

  Kane had a rare gift; songs poured from him like water. Joplin wished she understood why he would abandon his calling. But when they talked, music was the one subject he avoided. Though she longed to ask, for once she tamped down her pushy nature and respected his boundaries.

  “Jax is snarly,” Joplin told Kane after considering her words.

  “Interesting.” Kane almost smiled. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Jaxon Cross is a natural showman. Puts on a good show for his public—the rock star at the top of his game and grateful to be there.” Joplin sighed as she recalled their meeting. “Away from prying eyes, he wasn’t what I would call happy.”

  “Jax hates me—with good reason.” Kane had touched her hair, his dark eyes filled with pain and regret. “Sorry he took it out on you. I should have settled things between us long ago. Too much of a coward, I guess, to face him without the buffer of a drink. Or six.”

  “The reunion Danny requested would be your chance to make things right.” Joplin finally understood why Kane agreed to show up. “Jax made his position clear. He won’t be there. Nor will anyone else.”

  Joplin explained, telling Kane about Skye, then Beck, and finally, Morgan.

  “They’ve made lives for themselves. Good lives. Yet…”

  “None have completely come to terms with how Razor’s Edge ended.” Eyes closed, Kane rolled his head in a slow circle. When he looked at her again, Joplin wished she could kiss away his sadness. “We need a reunion. For Danny, but for ourselves as well. Unfortunately, I’m not the person to change anyone’s mind.”

  “Nor am I, apparently.” Joplin shrugged. “I tried. Made some progress with Beck and Morgan—I think. But not enough. No one wants to open old wounds. I can’t say I blame them.”

  “Don’t give up,” Kane consoled her. “You never know what might happen between now and then.”

  Joplin watched the coffee pot fill, the liquid dark and tantalizing. Kane was right when he said you never knew. Life took some funny turns
. When she set out on her journey, she did so with heavy feet and a nervous stomach. The task Danny gave was monumental.

  Opening the old wounds Kane spoke of was one thing. Joplin’s job, the one Danny asked her to do, had been to rip off whatever scab remained and grind in the dirt. She was lucky anyone agreed to see her. Not that she gave them much of a choice. And except for Jax, she was pleased. No, she hadn’t brought the band back together. But she had renewed old friendships.

  Then there was Kane. Talk about the unexpected. She never imagined in a million years they would end up in bed together. Yes, life took some odd turns. Some good. Some bad. Some sexy.

  “What’s put such a satisfied smile on your face?” Kane asked as he joined her in the kitchen. “Wait. I know.”

  Kane pointed to himself, and Joplin rolled her eyes.

  “Where are the coffee cups?”

  “To your right.” Kane stuck his head into the refrigerator. “Eggs. Bacon. All the fixings for an omelet. Or we can hit the diner for the best pancakes in the world.”

  “I’m not much of a breakfast person,” Joplin said as she opened the cupboard. “Though, I would like to see more of the town before—”

  Joplin froze. She’d found the cups but what she saw on the top shelf made her stomach drop. Three bottles of tequila. Coleccion. Kane’s favorite brand. The amber-colored liquid appeared to be untouched. But why would a recovering alcoholic keep temptation at his fingertips?

  “Kane?”

  “Hm?” Holding two eggs, one in each hand, Kane turned his head. His gaze lifted from Joplin to the tequila, and his quizzical expression changed to one of resignation. “Doesn’t look good, but I have an explanation.”

  “Which you don’t owe me. Or anyone else.” Joplin shut the cupboard door with a firm snap. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for her. “I’m not your judge or your jury.”

  “But you are my friend.” Kane set aside the eggs. “Unless I’ve jumped to conclusions.”

  Kane was right. Perhaps because of their history, the fact they weren’t starting from scratch, they’d found their friend groove. Comfortable and easy with the zing of desire to make things interesting. A combination they hadn’t managed the first time around.

  “Okay,” Joplin said. “I feel the need to ask. Have you fallen into old habits?”

  “Thank you for asking instead of jumping to conclusions. And for caring.” Kane flipped open the cupboard, took one of the bottles, and sighed. “Once upon a time, just the thought of a drink would make my mouth water. Tequila? Coleccion? By now, drool would be running down my chin. But not anymore.”

  Kane set the tequila on the counter. An instant later, all three bottles sat side by side.

  “Honestly, I forgot they were there.”

  “Really?” Joplin didn’t want to doubt him, but her memories of Kane the active alcoholic were too vivid.

  “I’m kind of surprised myself—pleasantly so.” He poured two cups of coffee, handing her one. “The tequila was a gift from a friend.”

  “Some friend,” Joplin scoffed. She leaned one hip against the counter. “Whose ass do I need to kick?”

  “I’ve heard you say backside. Maybe you tossed around the occasional butt, though I can’t be certain.” Kane raised an eyebrow. “However, using the word ass is pretty rough territory for you.”

  Joplin recognized what Kane was up to. His distraction tactics hadn’t worked, but she appreciated the effort.

  “Just say you don’t want to tell me.” Joplin shrugged. “I won’t push.”

  “Mm.” Kane didn’t seem convinced. “Delilah sends me a bottle every year on the anniversary of our divorce.”

  “Charming,” Joplin muttered into her cup, her fingers tightening around the outside. “What’s her game? Bait the alcoholic?”

  “I know you never liked her.”

  Feeling the start of a good rant, Joplin set aside her cup before she spilled hot coffee down her front.

  “My feelings are irrelevant. The question is, why did you like her? The fake boobs? The fake smile? The—”

  “The fact she had access to the good drugs?” Kane asked, lips twitching.

  “Not funny,” Joplin said.

  “Kind of is, but I’ve lived with my sobriety longer than you have.” Kane squeezed her hand. “Hey, my therapist says it’s good I can laugh about it.”

  “You’re seeing someone professionally?”

  “Have been for several years,” he told her.

  Joplin felt another surge of pride. Kane needed to deal with his childhood, his father, all the issues that led him down the road of self-destruction. Knowing he had ongoing help was the best news possible.

  “What does your therapist think about your ex-wife’s little gifts?”

  “Dr. Muller thinks I should eliminate Delilah from my life for good.” Kane glanced at the tequila and sighed. “And she’s right. Even though Lilah knew why I married her, I feel guilty about the way I used her.”

  “Think she might play on your guilt?” Joplin asked. “Just a bit?”

  “Probably,” Kane admitted. “It’s not like we’re joined at the hip. In fact, I haven’t seen Lilah in over a year.”

  “Does she call you?”

  “Now and then.” Kane rubbed the back of his neck. “Gotta say, her endless chatter was easier to take when I was blitzed out of my mind.”

  Kane’s continued relationship with his ex-wife was none of Joplin’s business—so she told herself.

  “Last time Lilah called, I told her not to send another bottle.”

  Rolling her eyes, Joplin walked into Kane’s arms. She kissed his stubbly chin and laughed.

  “Way to bury the lead, fella.”

  “I think Lilah is lonely. She doesn’t have a lot of friends,” Kane said. “She can be careless with other people, thoughtless. But she isn’t malicious.”

  Kane wanted to believe the best of his ex, and that was his choice. Another sign he was a good man. A bit gullible where the countess was concerned, but she doubted he would appreciate her saying so.

  “I really would have applied my foot to her bony ass,” Joplin said without the heat of her earlier threat. She paused. “Bony ass sounds kind of catty, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. However, knowing you’d defend my honor is kind of hot.”

  “Really?” Joplin laughed, looking over her shoulder at the recently made bed. “Know what I just realized?”

  “What?” Kane asked, his lips brushing across hers.

  “I didn’t thank you for clearing the snow off my car.”

  “Pretty sure you did.” He chuckled. “Multiple times.”

  “Nope.” Joplin tugged Kane across the room and pushed him onto the mattress. “Last night was about scratching a longstanding itch.”

  Kane looked amused. And intrigued. When Joplin tossed a pillow on the floor and knelt before him, his expression turned to one of concern. He placed a hand over hers when she would have unzipped his jeans.

  “You don’t have to, Joplin.”

  “Let me be perfectly clear. I never do anything because I have to.” Joplin ran her hand up the inside of Kane’s thigh. “Understood?”

  “Guess I’d be a fool to argue.”

  When Kane’s voice deepened, Joplin licked her lips and shivered. Whiskey and smoke. Her favorite combination.

  “Need help,” he asked.

  “Patience,” Joplin chided, a twinkle in her eyes. “Good things come to those who wait.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ♫~♫~♫

  THE NEXT FEW days of Joplin’s unplanned vacation flew by—too fast. If she could have found a way to stop time, she would have paid the price, no matter how high.

  They took long walks, spent hours talking, more hours in Kane’s bed. Each second she spent with him was a gift, an additional balm to the wounds of their past.

  “I have a meeting. One I can’t miss.” Kane sai
d on Wednesday afternoon. “But I hate to leave you alone.”

  Kane took some time off from his day job; he cut lumber at the local sawmill. Flattered, thrilled, Joplin didn’t want him to risk getting fired. He was owed some vacation time, he assured her.

  “Of course. Go.” Joplin smiled. “I think I can amuse myself for a few hours.”

  Taking her in his arms, Kane traced her lips with his tongue, and Joplin sighed. They sank into each other and what started out as a sweet kiss quickly smoldered, bordering on an inferno.

  “Careful,” Joplin warned with a shaky laugh. “Much more of that, and I won’t let you go.”

  “Use your wonderfully vivid imagination and persuade me to stay,” Kane whispered.

  Tempted by the growl in his voice and the heat of his body, Joplin knew one of them had to find the strength to get him out the door or they would wind up where they started, naked and in his bed.

  “You have a meeting,” Joplin reminded him—and herself. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

  “They’ll start without me.” With a sigh, Kane stepped away. “But, you’re right. I need to go.”

  Joplin walked him to the door.

  “Drive safe.”

  Lord, she thought. I sound like his wife.

  “You okay,” Kane asked, a line of concern forming between his brows. “You went white as a sheet.”

  “Must be a trick of the light.” Joplin reminded herself to breathe. “I’m fine.”

  “Maybe I should stay,” he said. “Just in case.”

  “Go. I’ll call if I need you.” Joplin snorted, then changed the subject. “Wait. I can’t call because you don’t own a cell phone.”

  “See no reason to make myself available 24/7. Nice to unplug the world now and then.” Kane paused at the door. “Karaoke night at the bar. I need to set up and stick around in case of technical difficulties. Feel like a night out? The cook makes a mean burger.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Joplin said. “Around six o’clock?”

  Kane gave her another kiss before leaving. Touching her lips, Joplin collapsed onto the bed. She was in trouble. Big trouble. Picking up her phone, she scrolled through the names of her friends, rejecting each one. They would be sympathetic, she needed to speak with someone who understood. Only one person fit the bill.