by Meghan March
When he wrapped my fingers around the pencil, I squeezed it so tightly I thought the wood would snap, but it didn’t.
Because it wasn’t a pencil. It was a pen.
That’s how out of it I was. I couldn’t see anything clearly through my haze.
“Baby, I’m worried about you. You just need to let it all pour out of you. Music is the best way to do it. You know that’s what I did when I thought I lost you.”
When I thought I lost you?
Like it was past tense. Like he already had me back.
Does he? No one had consulted me in that decision—or had I been too out of it to realize that had happened too?
Lincoln hasn’t come back . . .
Another thing that didn’t matter. Because Riscoffs and Gables can never be together.
All I wanted was to stop thinking about all of it. I wanted to stay in my haze, but it was fading before I was ready to deal with the real world again.
My fingers gripped the pen, and I stared down at the lined paper.
Maybe I could find some oblivion if I could get it all out. Maybe then these emotions haunting me would live on paper in a song and not in my head. Then I could go back to feeling nothing.
My hand started to move as if of its own accord.
* * *
Regret. Pain. Shredded soul.
* * *
Ricky read the words out loud from beside me. “That’s a good girl. Get it out. It’ll heal you.”
My hand kept moving, and I wrote through the tears that started to fall.
* * *
I hate you for doing this to me. I hate even more that I can’t hate you anymore.
* * *
“That’s fucking gold, babe,” Ricky whispered, and I hunched forward, not wanting to hear his voice.
“Go away. Leave me alone.”
He moved back. “But—”
“I want to be alone, Ricky.”
He stood and raised both hands. “Okay. But write it out. You know you’ll feel better.”
I listened for his footsteps and the sound of the closing door before I flipped to a new page.
In huge letters, I scrawled something at the top of the page.
* * *
Long live regret.
15
Lincoln
Present day
I drive toward my office, and it takes everything I have to leave the resort grounds knowing that Whitney is there. McKinley and I discussed security, and she doubled it and is bringing in extra help just in case. Thankfully, the gates around Riscoff Holdings keep them away from me while I’m at work.
Unfortunately, those gates can’t keep my brother out.
When I walk into my office—which should have been locked—he’s standing near the window, enjoying the view while he drinks coffee.
“What the hell are you doing in my office?”
Harrison spins around with a smug smile on his face. “I wondered if you’d ever show up.”
“Get the hell out.”
“I don’t think so, brother. As a vice president of this company, I’m entitled to a briefing on what the fuck is going on. I heard you put your whore and her whole family up at The Gables after she brought another media shit storm down on the family.”
My entire body tenses, and I take another step into my office, ready to crush his face with my fist. “Don’t you fucking call her that.”
“Doesn’t matter what I call her—she’s the one responsible for this mess.”
It takes everything I have to rein in my temper. “You don’t know jack shit about what’s going on, so go back to your office and get to work on the projects assigned to you.”
He walks toward me. “So you can run this company into the ground, thinking with your dick like you always do when it comes to her? I don’t think so.”
“Get out before I throw you out.” I force out the words from between clenched teeth.
Harrison laughs. “Go for it. I’ll make sure Commodore knows.”
“He’d probably give me a raise. Now, get the fuck out of my office. I’m not going to ask you again.”
My brother glares but heads for the door.
I take a seat at my desk, wishing that I could have a normal relationship with my brother and he wasn’t raised hating me because he was born second. His bitterness over losing out on any piece of a billion-dollar inheritance will never fade, and that means I can never let my guard down around him.
He stops at the threshold and turns. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. We didn’t make the auction deadline for the company you wanted. Missed filing the bid by three minutes.”
That motherfucker. I stand and stride across the room. “You can fuck with me all you want, but when you start fucking with this company, that’s where I draw the line.”
He shrugs, and there’s nothing I want more than to put my fist through his face. “Maybe if you’d been working last night instead of out chasing a piece of ass, it wouldn’t have happened. I guess we’ll never know.”
“You were in charge of this bid. It was your responsibility. Twisting the truth won’t work.”
“I had a question for the boss . . . and you weren’t around to answer it.”
It doesn’t matter what I say or do, Harrison will never take responsibility for his own mistake. I wouldn’t put it past him to have missed the deadline on purpose. In fact, that’s probably exactly what he did.
“Get out of here before I make the call to have you fired.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Harrison smirks before he leaves, shutting my door behind him.
Goddammit. I stalk back to my desk and narrowly resist putting a hole in the wall. The last thing I needed was another fucking problem to deal with today, but my brother always comes through at the least opportune time.
I pick up the phone and make a call to someone who might be able to fix what Harrison has fucked up. I should call Commodore, but that will wait until I have a solution.
Harrison may be a tattletale, but I’m a fucking CEO who gets things done.
Eight hours later, the sun has set, but I’ve finally arranged to have our late bid accepted for the auction. It took unanimous approval of the other bidders, which I wouldn’t have been able to get if I hadn’t called in an old favor from a man who scares the fuck out of them all. Jericho Forge, I owe you now. The move won’t win me any friends, but that’s not what I’m here for.
I pick up the phone to call Commodore, but he doesn’t answer, which seems to be the pattern of the day. I don’t know what the old man’s game is this time, but I’m not playing it.
I’ve already lost ten years of the life I wanted, and I’m not going to risk losing Whitney again. I fucked up badly enough this morning, and I have a long road to fixing things with her and regaining her trust.
When she looked at me from Magnus’s doorway, I saw the change on her face before she spoke the words. It gutted me to hear how I’ve hurt her, but I deserved that and more.
I’m older, wiser, and I know better—and yet I’m still making the same mistakes. But not anymore.
I push away from the desk and stand to stretch. I told Whitney I had no ulterior motive and that I only wanted to protect her and her family. That’s true.
But there’s another unspoken truth that goes along with it—I won’t not let this opportunity pass without giving everything I have to do what I failed to do once before.
Make her fall in love with me.
I’m not a man who accepts defeat, even in the face of impossible odds. If there’s a single chance that I can win Whitney Gable, I won’t back down.
16
Lincoln
The past
I wasn’t too proud to admit that I had people watching Jackie Gable’s house. I’d been waiting for another chance to try to talk to Whitney, and as soon as I got the text that Asa Gable was gone, I jumped in my truck and hauled ass over there.
When I knocked, footsteps came and I tensed, readyin
g myself to see her face.
Except it wasn’t her.
No, it was Ricky Rango.
Fucking hell.
My guy must not have known Rango was here. Then again, how would he? Mr. Rock Star didn’t have a fucking car to signal that he was here.
“What the fuck do you want?” Rango stepped out of the house and shut the door behind him before crossing his arms over his chest. He was going for the tough-guy act, but the tattoos wrapping around his arms didn’t intimidate me.
“I’m here for Whitney.”
“She’s busy.”
“She’ll get unbusy to see me.” I didn’t care that I sounded arrogant. This asshole needed to know that I wasn’t impressed by him or his fifteen minutes of fame.
“If it’s up to me, she’ll never see you again, Riscoff.”
This fucking prick.
“Good thing it’s not up to you.”
“It damn well is. She’s my girl. Always has been and always will be. Doesn’t matter if we hit a few bumps in the road. Whitney and I are for life.”
I controlled my temper because all I wanted to do was sink my fist into this asshole’s face. “You fucked around on her, she dumped your ass and then fell for me . . . and you’re calling it a bump in the road?”
His nostrils flared.
Good, now we’re equally pissed off.
“She didn’t fucking fall for you. She’s been in love with me since she was a kid.”
I forced a smile onto my face. “I hate to break it to you, asshole, but she’s not a kid anymore, and she’s too smart to ever give you another chance.”
A car pulled into the driveway behind me and the doors slammed. I whipped around to see Asa Gable. Fucking great.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from here.” Whitney’s brother came toward me, his face stamped with the urge to kill.
“Asa, don’t you dare touch him,” Jackie said as she walked toward us.
“Why? Because his family would make sure I’m shipped off somewhere and killed by friendly fire?”
I took a step down the driveway. “I don’t know who the fuck fed you all these lies about my family, but we don’t give two shits about you, Gable.”
“Both of you, stop.” Whitney’s aunt waved an arm between us, then looked at me. “You should go.”
“I need to see her. Please. Just let me talk to her for two fucking minutes.”
Something that looked a lot like sympathy flashed across Jackie’s face, but she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. She’s . . . not coping well.”
The anguish leeching into Jackie’s expression and the rough edge of her voice sent a slash of pain through my insides with enough intensity to double me over. I stayed standing because there was no way I was going to take a hit to my pride in front of these people.
I met Jackie Gable’s gaze. “Can you at least tell her I’ve been here twice?”
Her expression softened, but Rango jumped back into the conversation.
“Twice? What the fuck?” He bolted toward me, his fists clenched.
I kept my attention on Jackie. She was my only potential ally here and knew how Whitney felt about me before. Hopefully still feels about me. And she was the only person here who would give me a single fucking chance to see Whitney.
“Please tell her I was here, and that I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Jackie squeezed her eyes shut, and she was a moment away from giving in. I could feel it. But Asa responded for her instead.
“My sister has a double funeral to worry about, Riscoff. She’s not gonna give a single shit what you have to say, now or ever.”
I spun toward him, anger filling my gut. They think they’re the only ones who’ve lost someone?
“I’ve got a fucking funeral to attend too, and I’d care if she came to my house and had a single word to say to me.”
“But she hasn’t come to your house, and she won’t.” Rango’s voice might as well have been gasoline tossed on the fire of my rage. “Because she doesn’t want a damn thing from you. She’s got her family and me, and she doesn’t need you.”
I moved toward him, ready to fight, not caring how it would end.
“Please, Lincoln. If you care about her . . . just go.” Jackie’s tone, begging and defeated, stopped me cold.
Not now. Not like this. I raised my hands in front of me like I was giving up, but that’s one thing I’d never do when it came to Whitney.
“I’ll go, but I’ll keep coming back until I finally get to see her. Talk to her. Apologize to her. I owe her that much.”
From the expressions on their faces—rage and sadness—I knew they’d never let it happen.
That just meant I’d have to find another way.
17
Whitney
They thought I couldn’t hear them, but the yelling outside was impossible to drown out, even with my humming.
I sneaked to the windows in the living room but stayed pressed against the wall beside the panes. I couldn’t let Lincoln see me, because I knew if I went outside, they’d tear me apart like jackals.
I couldn’t handle seeing him with an audience. What we’d had wasn’t for public consumption, even if he thought it should be.
We were better off as a secret. Something that was just ours and no one else’s.
As I listened to them argue, I realized how naive he and I had been, thinking that anyone would accept us. Maybe in a world where no one knew our names, but here in Gable? We’d been cursed from the start.
I finally heard a car door slam, and my heart was so torn as to what to think or feel in that moment, I barely reacted in time to run back to the kitchen before they stomped into the house.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me he was here before?” Ricky barked the question at Asa.
“Because I handled it. She’s my sister, asshole. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“She’s my girl.”
“Which means I’ll fucking kill you—in more painful ways than I’d kill him—if you ever think about cheating on her again. Do you fucking hear me?”
“It was a mistake, man. I swear. I got caught up in all the LA bullshit. It showed me what really mattered. She’s the only girl who wants me for me and not because of my song on the radio, and I didn’t realize what I had until I fucked it up. I’m going to do everything to make it right. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.”
“You’ve been my best friend for twenty fucking years, Ricky. I don’t make idle threats, so don’t make me kill you. Now, go fucking try to get her to stop crying so damn much.”
I sat back down at the kitchen table and wrote until my hand cramped.
* * *
We were destined to go down in flames
Because every sin begets a sin.
Maybe someday I’ll forget your name,
But until then . . . I never want to see you again.
* * *
The words spilled out of me, but I knew I was lying to myself. I’d never be able to move on without seeing Lincoln at least one more time.
18
Whitney
Present day
Light streams in through the window, and I open my eyes to see the most incredible sunrise over the gorge. Nothing, not even remembering the reason I’m here, can detract from the beauty of this moment.
Because I’m looking for the good.
Maybe Magnus was right. Maybe I’ve been focusing on the clouds instead of the beauty of everything else.
But this morning, even after a night filled with dreams of Lincoln, things look brighter and more vivid. Even the clouds are stunning, washed in orange, pink, and red. It’s one of those moments that you can’t help but be glad you’re alive to see.
I wait for the sky to change colors before I pick up the phone on my nightstand. My majordomo answers immediately.
“Good morning, Ms. Gable. Can we bring you a latte or coffee before breakfast?”
“Coffee would be great.”
He goes on to ask me what I’d like for breakfast, and I decide to indulge with a strawberry crepe. He returns with the coffee within minutes.
It’s a different kind of luxury than I’m used to. At least, it feels different. Before, I was always part of the Ricky Rango entourage, where his needs came first and everyone else was an afterthought, especially me. I wasn’t part of the band, and no one was ever allowed to know what my true role was. Ricky went out of his way to give the impression that I was just along for the ride and contributed nothing.
For some reason, that always made me feel like I had to prove that I was earning my keep. I went above and beyond, busting my ass to make sure every part of his life went smoothly, so people knew I was pulling my weight.
As his popularity grew, things spiraled out of control. Ricky pushed me harder, always wanting more. Different. Bigger. Better. It was never enough. If a single didn’t hit number one, it was always my fault.
And I let him make me feel like that.
I let him walk all over me.
I let him bully me into keeping his secret.
Until the moment I found out he had gone back on his one promise to me and cheated.
Just like everyone else, Ricky Rango didn’t realize what he’d had until he lost it. I finally grew a backbone—and then he killed himself.
For months, I’ve struggled with the guilt.
Did standing up for myself really make him push that needle into his vein? Did he know what he was doing when he shot that fatal dose? Could I have stopped it?