My knees weakened and I managed to settle into a nearby chair.
“Pancreatic cancer. So—what? She’s dying?”
“Yes. The doctor said she has a week at most.”
I dropped my head as my neck muscles clenched. My mum, a woman I hadn’t seen in decades, was terminal.
“She asked for me?”
“She’s been asking for you constantly.”
“But she’s so young,” I said.
“She didn’t receive proper treatment.”
My chest tightened as my mind spiraled back to my dad’s last request as he’d gripped my hand in his age-spotted one. Find your mother. If not for you, then for me. I never told you the whole story about her illness, Hayden. I didn’t understand it myself. You need to hear her version.
“Give me your information again.” I snapped my fingers, and Harry handed me a pen and a notebook. I wrote down the details, the pen shaking as I tried to press the point to the paper. Terminal. A week at most.
“I hope you can see her, Mr. Crewe. Miriam’s quite agitated.”
“Yeah. I bet. I’ll be there soon as I can.”
I ended the call and stared at the pad. None of the letters lined up. Bloody fucking hell.
Harry patted my shoulder, all paternal concern. “You ’right, mate?”
My eyes darted around the room. Small. Dusty. Two chairs and chipped linoleum. Five minutes ago I’d been playing Sydney’s greatest venue.
“No. I don’t think I am.”
“What do you need?” Harry asked, voice solicitous. “Who was on the line?” More than a spark of interest there. Ambitious bastard that Harry was, my personal life would be splashed across the Australian Broadcasting Corporation news segment faster than I could blink. The media would go digging into my mum . . . why my dad moved us back to Melbourne from Seattle.
Which I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to handle. Possibly because I didn’t know the answer myself.
I cleared my throat, trying to figure out how to thread the needle. “My mum’s in hospice. I need a ticket to Seattle. Like, sooner than now.” I stood, ready to put my plan into place. Actionable steps.
Terminal. I shook my head. Crikey, she damn well better not die until I had a chance to ask my questions, get some answers.
Harry pulled at the vest under his tailored suit coat. His wife and three kids lived up in Darwin, a place he rarely went now that we’d hit the international charts. “Hayden, are you sure that’s smart?”
No, it wasn’t. I sure as hell didn’t want to fly halfway across the world to watch my estranged mother die.
“She’s dying, Harry. I have to go.”
I’d promised my dad I’d seek her out and hear her side of their story. He hadn’t said why I should after all the intervening years, and I never asked. Nor did I make finding my mum a priority. Now I was out of time.
“We’ve got a concert schedule.”
Shock reverberated through my chest. No wonder his wife stayed tucked up in Darwin. “She’s only got days to live.”
Harry scrubbed his palms across his cheeks, mouth hanging open. “Right. I’ll handle it. You get packed and head to the airport. I’ll text you the details.”
“I’ll be in and out, Harry. A few days, tops.”
Harry sighed. “Good. Yeah, good. We don’t want to screw over the fans. They bought tickets to these shows months ago.”
Tension crawled up my neck. “Do you think I’d choose hospice over playing with the band?”
Harry put his hand on my arm. I shook him off, so he tried to placate me with words. “You’re right. This is a tough time for you.”
“I plan to keep my commitments to the band, to our fans—as soon as my mum’s gone.”
Harry ran his hand over the buttons of his vest, and I struggled to process my emotions. Why did we leave all those years before? Next time Harry spoke, he was all business. Don’t know why I expected more from him.
“I’m walking a fine line here, Hayden. Everyone should be happy. The fans like that last tune you added to the LP. We’ll offer them the live version you did tonight. Glad you overruled Ets.”
Not what he’d said when they recorded the track. In fact, he’d sided with Ets, saying the song was too emotional.
People connected with my songs because they were real. Raw. I hadn’t known how else to pound out my fear and frustration after my dad died. So I’d written music. Lots of music. Most of which Dad would’ve hated, but the process was cathartic. And people responded to it.
“Don’t be gone long. Jackaroo is front and center right now. You’re at the top of your game, Hayden.”
“Got that. Spin us hard, mate. I’ll do my part. A live chat or whatever. Get me a piano, and I’ll play something for the fans we’re screwing over. Will you get me on the first flight that’s available? I’ll need a day at the hospice facility.” To deal with the paperwork and such. To ask my questions. “Then I’ll fly back. It’ll have to be two days with the time difference and flights.”
“There’s a plan. We’ll smooth this over. No worries.” He bent over his phone, fingers tapping. “Oh. Condolences.”
“What’s going on?” Flip asked, barging through the door. His dark hair lay plastered to his head, same as mine. “You ran off. Bad news?” He wrapped his arm around his longtime girlfriend turned wife. Cynthia, a petite brunette, was rounded with a bellyful of baby. Her light hazel eyes were focused on Flip’s face, full of love.
“My mum’s in final stages of pancreatic cancer. I’m off to Seattle.”
“Earliest flight leaves at ten tomorrow morning,” Harry muttered, hunched over his phone.
“Book it then,” I said.
“Gets you in during the afternoon tomorrow in Seattle. Benefit of the seventeen-hour time difference, I’d say. I’ll sort your hotel and a car.”
I clapped his shoulder. “Thanks, mate.”
Flip’s eyes were darker away from the harsh glare of the stage lights. “You’ll be ’right, mate?”
I half shrugged. “I’ll ring soon as I can, let you know when I’ll be back.”
“We’ll miss you,” Cynthia murmured, pulling me into her arms.
I shuffled back, swallowing hard. I offered my hand to Flip, but he also pulled me into a hug, pounding my back a few times to beat the point home. They wouldn’t ask the uncomfortable questions, but at least I wasn’t alone.
“Right-o,” I said, clearing my throat. “See ya in a few days. My leaving will give Ets his chance to shine.”
Flip chuckled low. “We’ll crash and burn if we’re giving Ets the reins. He’s on a quick boat to self-destruction.”
I rotated my head on my neck. “Don’t make me feel worse about this, Flip. I’m having a bugger of a time leaving.”
“It’s for family. That’s first.” Flip slid his arm back around Cynthia’s waist, emphasizing his point.
“I’ll touch base with you before I leave for the airport,” I said to Harry.
Our manager nodded, mumbling to himself. I tore the page from his pad and offered it back. He grabbed it and started making notes, still muttering.
“See if I need to do any promo. I’ll talk to reporters you set up in Seattle to get the Yanks excited about our tour there.”
I ran my fingers over the short hairs on the back of my neck, wishing for a massage. But I still needed to shower and pack. Just past 1:00 a.m. here. I snorted. My courtesy car would be by to pick me up in mere hours.
I walked out of the room, away from the fans screaming, noting the strawberry-blonde’s pout. Me, too, love. I had grand plans for our night.
Instead, I climbed into my bus and walked straight to the loo. Stripping quickly, I stepped into the narrow shower stall, the tepid water running over my neck, down my back. The water took too long to warm up all the way, and I needed to wash away the sweat and fatigue before I was buried under it.
Three days tops to get there, say goodbye, and hop on another jet home. I’d b
e free of old promises and the obligation to a woman I could barely remember. And wished I didn’t.
2
Briar
Five Days Earlier
“How do you do this all day?” I asked, throwing down my pen. “Freelancing lacks all the social interaction I liked about my job.”
“Then go get another one. You’ve had offers.”
The problem with talking to Lia was that she had answers. Over the course of the last month, my sister had gone from grieving the end of her relationship with rock legend Tristan Asher Smith to bouncing through her days with enough joie de vivre for the rest of us. While very un-Lia-like, she’d been due her happy.
Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled they’d worked through their problems. Each time she lit up with this internal glow when Asher walked into a room I had the stomach-clenching realization I’d settled for much less than I deserved. Ken still called me, but the calls were tapering off. Finally.
How he could think I’d want to talk to him after what he did—the man was brilliant and dense all at once. Like Ken, my career mattered to me. I frowned. Or it had. Now . . . I glanced over at Lia. Seeing her happy, knowing she was thrilled with spending time with Asher’s son, Mason, my priorities seemed skewed. Maybe even silly.
In Ken’s last message, he reminded me of our shared life. Of our compatibility. He even—finally—apologized, saying he’d been tired of fighting with me about starting a family, but he knew he’d handled the situation wrong.
Wrong didn’t begin to cover it.
I wasn’t ready for kids. Not with Ken and not because I didn’t like them—hanging out with Mason and my niece Abbi was fun. More fun than I’d had in years. But why did me having a child mean giving up my career to stay home and maybe, one day, focus on charity work? For most men, I’m sure having a child didn’t mean the wife automatically filled the role of a stay-at-home mom, but for Ken, who was raised by the freaking nanny while his mother was at yet another charity event, a woman’s career was over the moment she began to gestate.
I shuddered. My mother was a huge Elvis Presley fan—she even named her third daughter, my half sister, Preslee—but to me Elvis and Ken shared a warped, scary view of a woman’s place in the world. One I couldn’t accept.
“Do you want me to move out?” I asked. At first, I’d stayed to help Lia through the grief of her imploding relationship with Asher, but now that they were planning their life together, I was restless and well aware of my third-wheel status.
Lia sidled around the kitchen island, gray eyes intent on my face. “I want you here. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you. It’s the first time, really, since Dad died that we’ve spent more than a few hours together.”
“But you have a whole life, and I’m in the way.” I leaned my chin into my cupped hands, restless, searching. As I had been since . . . well, if I was honest, since Dad died.
“You’re part of my life, Bri. An important one. But if you want to move on, you should. I don’t want to hold you back from any of your goals.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell her I’d go. Out of pride more than anything else.
Asher slid behind Lia, arms around her waist, lips pressed into the side of her neck. They’d built the kind of relationship I craved. I wasn’t ready to leave, because then I’d have to face that my years with Ken Brenton were over—wasted. I’d have to start over. Again.
“I’m your house sitter this weekend. My longtime dream is being realized. Who wouldn’t want this all to herself?” I gestured around.
Asher chuckled, his hazel eyes dancing with mischief. “You hate to clean more than I do.”
“But not as much as Mason. Think how much easier it’ll be to keep a clean house without the Legos scattered across the living room like tiny IEDs.”
Lia sighed, leaning back into Asher’s chest. “Those things hurt. I caught one with my heel on the stairs last night. It used to be a propeller.”
Asher stepped back, his sigh gusty. “I’ll talk to him.”
He squared his shoulders at the landing, calling Mason’s name.
“He’s so cute when he’s disciplining,” I said.
“Mmm.” Lia set her glass of lemonade on the counter. “So what’s this about? You’re restless. And unhappy.”
I walked to the row of windows at the back of the house, staring at the thick copse of trees, their bright green needles raised to the relentless summer sun.
“I am. Not just job-wise.”
I turned back to my sister, thrusting my hands into my pockets. Part of me worried I’d fixated on the idea of disliking journalism once Ken The Asshole planted it in my head.
“The money’s fine for what I’m doing, especially with my rent-free, hobo lifestyle.”
“We haven’t talked much about your break from Ken,” she said, her voice careful, her eyes assessing.
“The Asshole fits him better. You know the worst of it.”
“He wanted you barefoot and pregnant. He’s pestering you. Is that why you’re still here?”
A woodpecker drilled its beak into the thick bark of a pine nearby. “I’m relieved our relationship is over. He didn’t love me—not the way Asher loves you. The deep, forever kind. In fact, there were times I had no idea why Ken wanted me. What he saw in me. Except that Rosie liked me, and he seems to like to please his aunt.”
Lia wrapped her arm around me. I stood inches taller than my big sister. She gripped my waist, her fingers firm on the curve.
“He wasn’t the right man.”
I tipped my neck so my cheek rested on her hair. “Figured that one out already.”
“Once you admit you made a mistake, you’ll forgive yourself.”
I straightened and narrowed my eyes at Lia. “You think that’s what I’m waiting for? Forgiving myself for getting so deep into a relationship I knew wouldn’t go anywhere?”
Lia met my gaze, hers steady and patient.
“Why is that so hard?” I whispered.
“Because we’re hardest on ourselves.”
I put my cheek back on top of her crown. “You got smart.”
“I’ve always been this smart. You just started listening.”
If I wasn’t feeling so sorry for myself, I would’ve giggled. Lia was much better with words than I’d ever be. That’s why I wrote for newspapers and she wrote best-selling novels.
“You’re right. I’ve been hiding here. I think I should head back to Seattle soon.”
Lia pulled back, surprise and concern flashing through her gray eyes faster than mist drifting on an ocean breeze. “If that’s what you want.”
“I think it’s what I need to do.”
“I need you to be happy.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to face up to the life I left at some point. And I miss Rosie.”
Lia smiled. “Ken’s aunt is the best thing that’ll ever come out of your relationship with him.”
“I should call her.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the guilt building there. “Soon. We went to lunch when I drove back to Friday Harbor to clean out my desk, but I couldn’t tell her about losing my job and the stunt Ken had pulled. When she asked if we were still seeing each other, I totally chickened out and changed the subject.”
“Rosie’s the best. She’ll understand. Give her my love when you call her. If you want to go sooner, we can find someone here to look in on the house.”
“It’s for a weekend, Lia. Not a biggie. And I think I’ll like the solitude. It’ll help me think through some of these decisions I need to make. I can’t leave my stuff in storage forever. And I’ll need closure with Ken.”
Lia nodded slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “You know I’m here any time you want to talk.”
“Thanks for not pushing.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t do any good.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“I’m going to help Abbi pack,” I said.
Lia smiled at
her daughter’s name. “Explain to her she doesn’t need four swimsuits to go to San Francisco, please. We’re touring Stanford, not hitting the beach in San Diego. I’m not getting through to her with her excitement-fogged brain.”
“Will do.”
The emptiness of the house settled over me before Asher finished pulling down the driveway the next morning. I’d never learned how to be alone. I’d always lived with someone—Lia and my dad, then my mom and her new family, various roommates, and finally Ken. That’s why I’d wanted these three days. To prove to myself I could be alone.
Less than a month from my thirty-first birthday and just now learning how to be by myself. Sighing, I scooped up another pile of Legos Mason had dribbled across the living room and headed toward the overflowing bin. Not wanting to face the silence yet, I pulled out the vacuum and ran it over the whole first floor.
The kitchen clock read nine when I finished, so I changed into my running clothes. Attaching my iPod to my armband, I shoved in my earbuds. Setting out, I ran toward the trail Abbi had shown me earlier this summer.
As I hit the path that looped around the small lake, a doe slid from the tree line. I stopped. Just before she lowered her head to drink, she raised glimmering brown eyes, her entire body poised to sprint away. I wanted to touch her. To feel the velvet of her nose against my palm. I wanted to stop squelching my desires and actually do some of the things with my life that others did so effortlessly.
When I stepped forward, I hit a small twig and she flinched back. In one leap, she disappeared. I stood there, breathing hard as mosquitoes swarmed my sweaty skin.
I’d always been afraid to look for a man I actually wanted. Like the doe, I was too skittish to let him close enough to find out if we’d be compatible. I could continue to do so and pine for a relationship like Lia and Asher’s, or I could stop trying so hard to keep people out and face the fact I was lonely and sad because of my fear.
I turned and jogged back to Lia’s house, pondering the changes I’d need to make.
3
Hayden
Going straight to hospice would have won me points, but I couldn’t care less about scoring points with my mum. We didn’t have a relationship, hadn’t for nearly two decades. So I chose to focus on my needs, which included some much-needed rest. Sleeping was rare what with the late-night performances and hours-long partying. The thirteen hours of pillow time proved how much my body needed to reset.
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