“Bethany and Steve?”
“They’re going to do jail time. Serious jail time if we get any kind of say.”
Abbi nodded.
“I’m sorry, Abbi. I wanted to call you this week but I didn’t know what to say.”
Her fingers moved to cover my lips, and she shook her head just a little. I pressed a kiss to her fingers, needing to show her how much I loved her. Words I hadn’t said. Hadn’t realized how much I needed to say.
“I miss you so damn much. I want us to be together. Like you talked about.”
Her eyes grew bigger and bigger, her mouth dropped open and she grimaced. She put a hand to her chin. I scooted closer.
“I should have told you before, but I was afraid. Not to commit to you. Not really.” I hoped that cryptic statement would be enough for her to get the words I struggled with. I blew out a breath, forcing the words past my tightening throat. “I love that you love me.”
“The fame?” she asked.
I hesitated before nodding. If my dad wasn’t famous then that woman wouldn’t have been as interested in him.
“It was a lot of pressure, yeah. I don’t want to be defined by what people want to see. I was unwilling to commit—you were right about that—because I worried I wouldn’t be what you needed.”
“But?”
“Being without you is so much worse. There are other things I want to say.” I glanced around, hearing the squeak of someone’s shoe right outside the door.
Her lips flipped up just a little in that smile I’d begun to think of as Smartass Abbi.
“Will you tell me? When I leave here?” she asked.
“I plan on telling you a lot, so yeah.”
“When I’m healed. Tell me then.”
“Why?”
Her eyes lit up in that way I loved, the one that told me she’s plotting sexy times in my future.
“Looking forward to it.”
Nessa, Dane, Kai, and I spent hours at the police station and even met with prosecutors to discuss what they knew about Bethany’s obsession and the lawsuit we’d filed against Steve.
Word traveled like wildfire through Northern about Charles’ drug bust, Bethany’s arrest, and Jenna’s continued hospitalization. Dane, Kai and I were bombarded with calls, texts, and social media messages, made worse when Nessa and Abbi turned off our phones. The deluge of questions and comments was too much.
Jenna woke about the time her parents showed up. Kai told me about it because I was still in Abbi’s room. Mr. and Mrs. Olsen decided to take Jenna home for the rest of the year to recover, and Jenna didn’t argue. She was still too ill from the effects of the drugs in her system.
Abbi had declined all interviews this morning, the first she could speak normally, too tired to try to field more questions thanks to her new position as the face of an international GBH court case.
The media was eating up each account and churning out new sensationalized details faster than I could click through the sites—which included the pictures of Abbi from last spring, but those led to a massive increase in awareness to the date-rape drugs with colleges, and universities in the Northwest were pledging money and education to focus on preventing incidents like what happened to Jenna and Abbi. Jan Silver was the first one to donate.
“Too little, too late,” Nessa said, her lips twisting into a seriously pissed expression.
While I agreed, I chose to remain silent.
Asher, Lia, and Abbi were organizing a foundation that worked with the university’s counseling departments to help the victims of Rohypnol and GBH. She had another few weeks to make a decision as to whether she wanted her name and time associated with the project, but she planned to do it, stating she could channel her notoriety, turn it into good.
Now, nearly a week after Nessa’s call that night, I took the stairs at Abbi’s parents’ place two at a time. I walked into her room, noticing her flannel pants and rumpled pink tee. Her feet were encased in fuzzy socks and her hair was half falling out of her ponytail. Tape covered the stitches in her chin. I wrapped my arms around her, needing the closeness.
“You look gorgeous.”
She shook her head, giggling self-consciously.
“C’mon. I want to take you somewhere.”
“I’m in my pajamas,” she pointed out.
“Which works great for where we’re going.” She shook her head violently, and I worried about her opening the wound. “Fine. Grab a change of clothes. But we’re leaving in two minutes.” Her ponytail slid further to the side. “Maybe three so you can use a hair brush.”
She pulled the hair tie out and grabbed a skirt and a pretty blouse from her closet. “Boots would be good for later. Sexy ones,” I added with a wink.
At least they’d be good if she agreed to my plan. I’d fight through the paparazzi frenzy to take her to dinner.
Hustling Abbi out the door, I snagged her keys as I stared at her long gorgeous legs.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Clay,” she sighed.
Part of me wanted to give in. “Give me this one. Please.”
“Fine.”
“Close your eyes.”
She huffed but she did it. She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the white jacket tighter around her torso.
We pulled into the parking space a few minutes later. “Keep them closed.”
I walked around and helped her from the car, grabbing her purse before leading her into the elevator. We both ignored the faint snick of the camera lenses.
“Closed,” I growled into her ear when her lashes fluttered.
The elevator dinged and we walked out into the hall. My heart fluttered as I opened the door. I pulled her in and closed the door behind us. Flipping on the light switch, I said, “Okay. Open your eyes.”
She did. Her eyes swept the room.
“Do you like it?”
“This isn’t your place. Wait. What’s my stuff doing here? Is this—are we moving in together? Again.”
I pulled her back into my arms, needing to feel her warmth and smell her light herbal fragrance. “Yes. It’s all done. I gave the other apartment to Dane and Kai. Nessa and Dane will have more privacy because Kai’s gone a lot more than I am—he goes back home now that his brother’s back from Afghanistan. And you and I will live here, together. It’s on the same floor as my old place, so we can see everyone often.”
I lifted her knuckles and pressed a soft kiss to each of them. She didn’t respond to my overture, too busy taking in our mingled items splashed across the room. I glanced around, satisfaction warring with nerves. “If it makes a difference, my mom and yours decorated the place. They’re excited.”
“You didn’t like me staying with you before. Not really.”
Panic built in my chest. “That’s not true,” I said. The words tumbled out, nearly tripping over each other. “I liked you in my space too much. It drove me crazy how much I wanted to spend time with you. That’s why I pulled away. I was only happy when you were, and that freaked me out.”
“So then why the sudden change?” she asked. “I don’t want to move in together because you’re worried I’m going to die. Or because you feel like you’re making me happy.”
I sank to both my knees. Her eyes widened. I chuckled as I pressed a kiss to her belly through her shirt.
“I’m not proposing.”
She smiled, shaking her head. The pulse in her neck was going about a million miles an hour, but those big, searching eyes remained drilled into mine. My strong woman.
“Not that I won’t, but I think we both need time to figure this love thing out.”
I tightened my arms around her, hugging her tighter to me. “I love you, Abbi. I’ve been drawn to you since I first saw you by the fountain. I need to wake up next to you every morning and see your sleepy smile. I need to walk in at the end of the day and kiss you. I need to laugh with you while we eat breakfast and dinner. I need to comfor
t you when you’re sad. Because I need you.”
She cleared her throat, her eyes firm on mine. “Are you going to give me the tour?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” she asked.
“On if you plan to stay here with me.”
She snuggled into my embrace. “I need you, too, Clay. I’d like to stay.”
I stood and scooped her into my arms.
“So you still love me, Abbi?”
“I always will,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to my chest.
“We’re starting with a tour of the bed.”
Sure, this relationship wouldn’t be perfect. We weren’t perfect. But we loved and respected each other.
And I’d learned from my dad and from Abbi that, for right now, those feelings, that commitment, was enough.
Epilogue
“Congratulations,” I whispered against Clay’s lips. He kissed me, hard, ignoring the flashes from myriad cameras. We’d had months to get used to the constant scrutiny, and like my mom and my aunt said, you just had to keep living life.
“Seems like both forever and no time at all,” Clay said with a sigh. He glanced around the auditorium. “Last time I’ll be here.”
“As a student, sure. But I’ve still got a couple more years of higher education. You’ll come visit me between gigs, right?” I batted my lashes at him, enjoying the game.
Clay brushed my hair back from my cheek, his eyes softening as they met mine. “I’ll always come home to you, Abbi. Always.”
I smiled past the lump in my throat and pressed another soft kiss against his lips.
We’d changed—all of us—in the last six months. Jenna hadn’t returned to Northern, but she’d left an indelible mark on our group—one I hoped she’d see when she visited us this month.
The national attention to my case brought attention to Lummi Nation as well, especially Clay, who’d taken the escalation in interest in stride. After looking at their options, he, Kai, and Dane decided to stick with a local, indie label that let them make the music they wanted. Asher and Hayden were helping them produce their album, and it was killer.
They were going to tour around this summer, doing a few festivals and some medium-size venues. Nessa and I would spend the summer with the band, none of us willing to be apart for long.
“I like the cap and gown look. Think I can peel it off later?” I asked.
Clay smirked. “I’m up for that.”
“You will be,” I giggled.
He leaned in and bit my lip, but then stepped back when the rest of our friends and family descended on us.
We hugged and accepted congratulations from the group, Clay never letting me leave his side for long. At first, I’d thought Clay was hesitant to let me out of his sight because of what happened at the club. But as time went on, I realized he found my presence comforting, which thrilled me.
“I’m starving,” Mason cried clutching his stomach.
Everyone laughed.
“Some things never change,” I muttered.
“We’ll meet you at the restaurant,” Clay said.
Clay’s parents smiled as Cassidy skipped ahead, talking to Colt. Mom and Asher herded Mason away, followed by Aunt Briar and Hayden, who were holding hands and looking as in love as two people could.
I sighed, realizing I probably had the same dreamy expression on my face most of the time.
Nessa slid her arm around my waist and I hugged her back. Clay and Dane wandered off into the crowd, looking for Kai.
“So I didn’t get a good look at your ring earlier. Let me see,” Nessa said, grabbing my hand. On my left ring finger sat a narrow silver band that almost met together. In the middle was a large violet-blue diopside held in place by the silver. I thrilled as I looked at it. I’d never had a ring before, and this one was special, from the stone to the tension band.
Nessa whistled. “Clay done good.”
“Yeah, he did. He says the stone fosters creativity, love, and commitment.”
I smiled as Clay’s arms slid around my waist, his simple silver band flashing on his right ring finger.
“I would have married her on the spot if she’d let me,” he grumbled, causing everyone to laugh.
“For a guy who was so commitment-phobic, I like seeing you so invested,” Dane said, slapping Clay’s shoulder. “Not often you see a guy insist on his own engagement ring.”
“I just needed the right woman,” he said, squeezing my fingers as he brought my hand to his lips.
We ambled through the crowd toward Dane’s SUV, talking about the graduation speeches, the upcoming tour. I glanced up just in time to see a telescoping lens directed at us. I reached up, turning Clay’s face to mine and kissed him.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“The cameras,” I said.
Clay glanced around, saw the one I’d noticed moments before. He dipped me back and planted a really hot kiss on my lips. He slid his tongue back into his mouth and I whimpered.
“Think he got the message?” Clay asked.
“I did,” I panted. “Loud and clear.”
Clay winked as he took my hand. “I love that you’re a smart woman.”
Thank You!
Dear Readers,
Thank you for choosing and reading this book. If you enjoyed it, I’d be grateful if you’d write a short review and post it on Amazon or your favorite book site. By taking a few seconds to leave a review, you not only help out your favorite authors, you help new readers find them as well—a total win-win!
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Acknowledgments
As always, thank you, Chris. Your unwavering support and love shine through in all you do. I’m me because you’re you.
To my family, thank you for your patience with my dream—and letting me hang out in my head way too often.
LERA ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being so supportive, for making me love writing again and for sharing your knowledge so freely. You are the best-est.
To my AuthorLab writing pals: You keep me on task and keep me motivated. I love your commitment and passion. I love reading your posts and stories. And I love how diverse our group is.
To Bev, thank you for seeing the big picture—and making sure I see it, too.
To Nicole, thank you for the advice on Seattle—hoodies, not umbrellas! (though I still used both)—and the fantastic copy edits that make the story shine. I’ll get to Jenna’s story soon. That’s a promise.
To Jan, I loved working with you. Thanks for the thoughtful comments. Looking forward to next time.
To Clarissa, once again the cover is gorgeous. I love working with you.
And to my readers and reviewers. Thank you for your time. It’s precious and I’m so, so glad you spent some of it with me.
From the First, Book Five
The Seattle Sound Series
Book 5
Alexa Padgett
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the material in this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.
From the First © 2016 by Alexa Padgett
Edited by Deborah Nemeth and Nicole Pomeroy
Cover Art by Clarissa Yeo of Yocla Designs
For Taylor. Your thoughtful insights are always spot-on.
1
Evie
The SUV’s wide, w
hite bumper filled the entire windshield. Where did the monstrosity come from? My light was green—had been for long enough that I wasn’t the first to go through the intersection.
I swerved, but there was nowhere to go, my reaction was too slow.
Metal screamed as it hit, caught, tore. I screamed, too, as my car spun and I slammed forward in my seat. The belt held even as I was flung back, then across the small compartment, hitting my head on the passenger seat. The airbag shot forward, white powder spraying forth as the seatbelt strained against my chest, but the spinning didn’t stop. More crunching metal as my once-trusty Honda slammed into another—the same?—vehicle. I screamed again as something else slammed into my car. Horns blared.
All the lights inside my car flashed brightly one last time before blinking out.
Ibeyi’s soulful music muted, crackled, then poured too sharp from the speakers. Another smash of metal against metal. From the back, maybe. I wasn’t sure. Bits of glass tinkled down, ripping at my hands and arms. A sharp sting settled at my hairline, joining the ache on the other side from where my head had slammed into the seat.
The powder from the airbag filled the small space, clogging my nose, my lungs. I wanted to cough, but my chest hurt. I was going to die in my car. Tonight, of all nights, when I’d just finally figured out my life.
Blackness, faster even than the huge white bumper, swallowed me. The faintest trickle of something slid into my ear.
I woke with a scream building in my throat—the one I wasn’t sure I’d uttered then, in my car, during the last crash of vehicle-to-vehicle.
“You’re okay. Hear me, Evie?”
Marilyn. I turned my head, my eyes struggling to focus. The hit to the head—the first one against the passenger seat—probably caused my concussion. I’d hit my head at least one more time, but the first one…no wonder my stomach was gurgling with angry intent, and my head pounded worse than a deep bass beat.
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 97