“Hayden, I can’t help you out, man. You gotta quit calling me. You dicked over Lia’s sister. Not once but twice.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I never meant to leave her like that. It just kind of happened. I told you. The blonde—nothing happened.”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. You look like you’re enjoying her attention in that photo. And that makes you an asshole. Dahlia’s words.”
“Asher, I need to talk to Briar. If I didn’t have back-to-back gigs, I’d fly out there. Hell, I’d already be on a plane.”
I’d thought of it more than once. But leaving wasn’t fair to my band. We’d worked our arses off for this, and I couldn’t put my personal life in front of their careers no matter how much I wanted to.
“Look, I remember what being twenty-nine’s like. Stupid comes naturally. But you hurt Briar, which means you hurt Dahlia, and that pisses me off.”
“I’ve been working my end of the PR,” I snapped. “I can’t make them leave her alone. I would if I could. I miss her.” I sighed. “I’m worried about her.”
“Then you should’ve stayed long enough to talk to her. And you shouldn’t have let those pictures get out.” Asher’s tone bordered on murderous.
“I fucked up.” Way more than Asher knew.
“She’s in a media shitstorm you created, and her friend’s dying. Dahlia’s begged her to come here and she won’t. So she’s alone. What the fuck, man.”
“We’ve gone this round, Asher. I’m sorry. My mum dying . . . I still don’t know what to do with that.” Hell, I was already in deep, what did it matter if he knew my most personal secret? “My mum had bipolar disorder,” I said, my voice quiet. “She said that’s why she left when I was a kid and didn’t contact me again after a particularly bad depression.” I sighed. “I’d spent time in the hospital after that episode of hers.”
After a long pause, I heard Asher let out a sigh. “That’s even worse than the shit my dad pulled,” he muttered. “I hate my old man.”
“Thing is, until I met with my mum, I hated her for leaving. So seeing her, hearing why she’d left, messed with my head. Especially finding out she kept up with my life but just never bothered to actually reach out to me, let me know she cared.”
“How old were you?”
The heaviness of that truth ripped at me. Along with questions like whether I should forgive my mum for being a victim of her illness.
“Ten.”
“Much as that sucks, doesn’t make what you did to Briar okay.”
“I should’ve thought more about how Briar would feel. I’m trying to fix it.”
Asher sighed. “Look, Dahlia’s been talking to Briar. Usually a couple times a day. Dahlia’s suggested Briar talk to you. It’s her decision. Let her make it.”
“I can’t. I need to talk to her, Asher. This is—” I blew out a breath and leaned back against our tour bus. “I love her.” My voice grew stronger, the tension lessening in my shoulders. “She deserves to know that.”
He sighed, long and hard. “Fuck. If there are any other pictures with another woman, I’ll fly out there and break your hands so you can’t play the piano. Are we clear?”
“As water.”
Asher groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Why are you helping me?” I’d been curious.
“I lost Lia when I was young.” His voice was gravelly. “It fucked me up for years. Years.”
“So you get it? I’m not trying to be a wanker.”
“Doesn’t matter if you’re trying. You’re being one.”
That tone brooked no argument. So I waited.
“Fine.” Asher dragged out the word. “Look her up on Facebook. She’s one of my friends on my personal page. You can message her that way. But I didn’t suggest it.”
As much of an olive branch as I’d get. I’d take that, at least for now.
“Tell me about performing in Mumbai. We’ve never been there,” Asher said.
We talked for another few minutes, and I relaxed into the convo, glad to have someone with so much industry knowledge to talk shop with.
“Dahlia’s calling me. She’s probably found some new house she wants to look at,” Asher said. His smile bled through the phone connection, and I murmured goodbye. Jealousy ripped through me. I wanted that life, that ease, Asher had with Lia.
I turned to see Flip standing on the top step of the tour bus. His eyes were filled with humor and even some sympathy. “It’s a bitch, falling fast and hard. But Cynthia and the baby are worth all that emotion I don’t know where to put or how to handle.” He patted my shoulder. “Trust me.”
“It’s getting Briar to trust me that’s the issue.”
Flip shook his head. “Can’t help you there, mate. Just know women’s hearts are fragile. Thankfully, not as fragile as ours. We’re weak bastards.”
“Care to do something?” I asked.
“Like what?”
“I haven’t got a clue.”
“You not wanting to play music all the time is still weird.”
I shrugged. “Perspective, mate. I’m finally seeing there’s more to life than pounding some keys.”
Flip laughed again. “Pounding a woman you love is better, I agree. Come on,” he said, nodding toward the tour bus. “Let’s play that car-hijacking game. Give yourself a badass persona and the confidence you need to make the next move.”
30
Briar
I’d woken up just before 5:00 a.m., wide-awake. Lia’s words from yesterday came back to me. You can’t hide from your feelings, Briar. They’ll come out, eventually.
So I picked up my phone and pulled up Hayden’s contact information. Seeing his tiny picture—his fingers poised over a piano—made me ache. Not just my heart, but my middle. That was the problem with really good sex. There was no substitute.
For hours, I lay in bed staring at my phone. I wrote, deleted, and rewrote a message. Before I could change my mind, I closed the messaging app. Just because I missed him didn’t mean I should contact him even if he had reached out through Facebook. I deserved a man who trusted me enough to talk through whatever was going on in his head.
Setting the phone down, I headed to the bathroom. I needed to shower before I went to the hospice center. Late mornings were Rosie’s best time. I wanted to be there for the few hours she was awake.
I let the hot spray pound at the tension in my lower back as I catalogued all the reasons why Hayden wasn’t worth my time. The list was long, and with each new item, my resolve firmed. I even took my time shaving, deciding I’d wear a knee-length black skirt and a keyhole lavender blouse I knew Rosie liked.
I stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing around me. Wow, I’d been in there a long time. My phone rang. I pulled my robe tight around my neck as I rushed to answer the call.
My stomach heaved then settled with icy unhappiness as I read the caller ID.
“This is Briar.”
“Briar, it’s Kelly from hospice. I’m calling about Rosie.”
“Is she okay?”
“Her vitals took a major dive.”
I’d been expecting the news, but the reality still cut deep. Really deep. Worse, I wanted Hayden’s arms around me, holding me tight until I was strong enough to help Rosie finish the job of dying.
“We wanted you to know. She asked for you when she woke up this morning.” She would. Rosie knew I’d be there for her. I’d promised. I pressed my thumb against my eye. Like I’d been there for Hayden. Stupid of me to think of him so much now.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Hanging up the phone, I tossed it onto the bed and scrambled toward the closet, pulling out the first item I saw.
I hurried through my routine. After shoving my feet into my gray slouch boots, I hurried back into the bathroom and flipped on the hair dryer. Not the outfit I’d planned, but it’d work. My long burgundy tunic hit midthigh on my gray skinny jeans. Dark colors to match my darkened mood. I ruff
led my hair, wishing it would dry faster. With quick, efficient strokes, I added a little mascara and lip gloss, bypassing my new, annoyingly long makeup routine. I clicked off the dryer and raced through the bedroom, grabbing my phone before heading down the hall. I tossed it into my purse as I hurried into the kitchen.
“No time to hear about your morning, Princess. I’ve got to get to hospice. I’ll tell Rosie you miss her.”
After plating a large piece of fresh fish for Princess, I made my coffee and put it in a to-go mug. I was out the door in ten minutes, racing through the last of the commuter traffic. I ran into the building and hurried down the hall.
“Briar!” I turned at the sound of Kelly’s voice.
“Oh, God. She’s already gone.”
“No. Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. No. I just wanted to let you know we’ve gotten a couple of calls for you here. From Hayden. He’s worried because you didn’t respond to his messages earlier.”
Kelly raised her eyebrows, obviously hoping for some good gossip.
“I’m going in to see Rosie. If Hayden calls again, tell him Rosie’s running out of time.”
“Already did. He said he wishes he was here with you. As you were for him.”
Not enough to do anything about it, like come help me. While I understood lots of people counted on him, I wanted to be the most important person in his life. I tilted my head back. In anyone’s life. I hadn’t been.
My mom left at the first opportunity. Ken never cared about me as much as he did his job, his image. Hayden was just one in a long line of people who took what I offered, giving nothing back. And I just couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t keep giving myself to people. I’d rather be numb than feel like this.
“Thanks, Kelly. I appreciate the message.”
I opened Rosie’s door, shutting out Kelly, Hayden, and the rest of the world. This time in here, this was for Rosie.
Rosie turned her head and met my gaze.
“Hey, there,” I said, trying to smile.
“You’re having one hell of a month, sweetie,” Rosie said. She shook her head, her thinning, white hair shifting on the pillow.
“What are you talking about? I’m great.” I sniffled. Rosie’s skin was yellow, sagging. Besides Lia, this woman was the most important person in my life. I cleared my throat and tried to smile. Rosie deserved my best, just like she’d always given me. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t want to talk about this damn cancer anymore. How are you holding up?”
“Rosie—”
“Talk to me.”
I settled into my chair, placing my purse at my feet with inordinate care. I didn’t want to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Will you stop with all the bullshit?” Rosie coughed. “I saw the pictures on my iPad.”
“I didn’t know you could have one of those in here.”
“Probably can’t. Stop looking at me like I’m crazy. I want to talk about your Piano McHottie.”
A giggle burst from my lips. “You did not just say that.”
“I didn’t say it right? Darn. I practiced it for a while.”
“Why?”
“That’s what one of the blogger people called Hayden.”
“Oh. Well, you said it right then. I hate the paparazzi.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said that first day I came to see you,” I said. “When you asked me what I wanted to do now that I’d lost my job. I decided to go back to school to get a degree in grief counseling. I want to help families deal with this.” I spread my arm to encompass the room.
Rosie’s eyes softened. “You have the best heart. I’m so glad Ken didn’t talk you into marrying him. He would’ve made you bitter and resentful. Like him. Except we can add entitled to his list.”
Today really couldn’t get any weirder. “Ken isn’t that bad.” He was, but he was also her nephew.
“That boy has always been a pompous ass. I blame his parents and even me, trying to give him some happiness in the form of material possessions.”
“He’s just . . . such a doctor.” Which I’d wanted. Until I met Hayden.
“He was born into it. His father was, too. I’m so glad I looked beyond that high society mindset and married my late husband. Best decision ever.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to see him again. He was the love of my life.”
I gripped her cold fingers. “I want you to be happy.” My chin trembled.
“I would be if I knew you were settled. So let’s talk about Hayden. He’s a much better person for you than Ken could ever be. Better looking, too. But he hurt you.”
I twisted my fingers into the material of my tunic. “I love him. Hayden, I mean.”
Rosie’s frail fingers gripped mine with an amazing amount of strength. “I know you do, lovely girl.”
Her eyelids were sinking, her face slackening into sleep.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Left the money to you. For the grief center. Love that idea. Don’t let Ken bully you.”
“I don’t see Ken anymore. Which is good. How could he bully me? And what money?”
Rosie struggled to open her eyes, failed. A frown settled between her brows even as her breath slowed, the cannula’s hissing loud in the quiet room. “Counseling,” she mumbled. “Do it. For me. And for you.”
I raised the back of her dry hand to my cheek. “I will, Rosie. I’d do just about anything for you.”
I sat with her, watching my friend fade.
Sometime in the afternoon, Kelly came in and checked Rosie’s vitals, making notes in the chart. “She wake up again?”
I shook my head.
“Get some air, Briar. You’ve been in here for hours.”
“I want to be here. In case she needs me.”
Kelly pulled out her phone. “I’ve got this and I’ve got legs. Walk around a bit. It’ll do you good.”
I stood, wincing as my hips popped.
“I’ll just do a couple laps of the parking lot.”
Kelly squeezed my shoulder. “We got this. You take care of yourself.”
Problem was, I didn’t know how to anymore.
31
Hayden
Still nothing. I’d sent Briar a private message hours ago. Desperate, I’d called the hospice center. Frustration clawed up my shoulders when Kelly finally came to the line. I’d asked the receptionist—the one Briar put in her place that first day I met her at hospice—for Kelly, pretending I needed to thank her for her care of my mum. I didn’t want to give that receptionist anything she’d consider gossip, knowing she would sell Briar out faster than I could play glissandos on my piano.
“Briar isn’t here yet,” Kelly said when I asked for her.
“But it’s after ten. She’s always there by now,” I’d said, my frustration leaking into my words.
“I’m sorry, Hayden.” But Kelly’s voice had said she wasn’t. “Rosie’s dying. She won’t make it through the day. So you’ll just have to wait until Briar’s ready to talk to you. Which she shouldn’t after you decided to kiss that other woman.” The connection clicked off. Great. I’d been hung up on by the hospice nurse.
Dammit, I needed to be there for Briar today. Like she’d been there for me. Instead, I was playing the piano in some venue in Prague. Should be one of the biggest thrills of my life, seated near where some of the greatest masters had played.
Such a hollow victory.
From the look Ets threw me, he was seriously angry about my last stumble during one of our most popular songs. I bent over the keyboard, trying to push everything but the feel of the keys from my mind. Didn’t work. I was worried about Briar. When we walked off the stage before our encore, I pulled my phone out of my pocket again.
Nothing.
Gnashing my teeth, I flipped through the aggregator sites. My heart nearly stopped.
She stood outside the hospice center in the dusky light o
f late afternoon, in the spot where I’d first seen her. Her right hand wound around her left biceps like she did when she was trying to hold emotion in. Some of her hair caught in a faint breeze, lifting from her shoulders to fly around her in a halo of mink brown. Her soft lips were parted, as if she was about to speak.
Even through the lens of the camera, the sadness pouring off her was crushing.
“What the fuck, Crewe?” Ets slammed his hand into mine, knocking my phone to the ground.
“If you broke that, you’re buying me another,” I said. He’d picked a bad time to mess with me. All the emotions swirling through me were now focused on this dickhead who thought he owned my life.
I bent to pick it up.
“Get your head in the game, Hayden. This is the real deal. What we’ve worked years for. Some piece of ass isn’t going to take that from me.”
I’d just bent to pick up my phone, but with his words, I stood as I slammed my fist into his jaw.
“I told you not to talk about her,” I snarled into his face, gripping his shirt.
“Oi!” Jake stepped between us. Jake was way bulkier than either Ets or me, and I stumbled back, but I continued to glare into Ets’s reddening face.
“We have to go back out there. You know, to the concert that twenty thousand people paid good money to see us perform,” Jake said.
I pointed my finger at Ets. “Keep him away from me.”
Ets growled back as Jake pushed him toward the stage. “Get out there, mate. Go do your ladies’ man thing.”
Jake and Flip turned toward me. I shook my hand, balling it into a fist and wincing at the sting. “You need to play,” Jake said. “Don’t muck this up for us, Hayden.” He stalked onto the stage. I inhaled a sharp breath.
Flip squeezed the back of my neck, his fingers helping to relieve the worst of the tension there. “It’s hard, being so far away. I get that. So does Jake. But Ets has a point. You gotta keep your head in the game. We need this tour, Hayden.”
I nodded. Bending, I picked up my phone. The case was dented but the screen remained intact. I read the headline below Briar’s picture: Broken Hope Hasn’t Stopped Angel of Mercy.
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