Hitting That Sweet Spot (Rogue Series Book 3)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “Sophie and I have always been public,” Gavin said. “We didn’t try to hide anything, but neither did we try to use the press to our advantage—well, there were a few exceptions.”

  “I knew it! I bloody well knew it!” Conor said triumphantly.

  “All right calm down,” Gavin replied with a wink. “Anyway, we’ve pretty much always kept the media on our good side, but you two were so far under the radar that they barely knew you were a couple. Let’s rewrite that history, yeah?”

  With Jessica’s help, they supplied journalists with previously unseen photos and videos of their life together, including their trip to Morocco, the time they spent being tourists in New York, their wild jump into the freezing waters at the Forty Foot on Christmas Day, and a particularly charming video of Shay playing drums in their home dance studio while Jessica improvised to his beat. A date-stamped video of Shay arriving at San Francisco Airport the day he saw Jessica at the restaurant was somehow obtained by TMZ, proving he hadn’t even been in town at the projected time when Jessica would have gotten the bruise. All of this effectively dispelled the initial suppositions about Shay having been the one to give Jessica the bruise, and instead created a new push that wondered if the two were “destined” to reunite.

  Gavin also called upon John Riley, the reporter who had been their American media go-to for major news ever since Rolling Stone did their first cover story of the band over a decade ago. The relationship had been mutually beneficial, and Reilly was happy to help once more. He promised to be in San Francisco by three o’clock, along with one of the magazine’s staff photographers.

  The next part of the plan involved a talk with Anton. Jessica needed to tell Anton that she wasn’t going to go back to him, that they were over. They also needed to work out an agreement as far as the future of the ballet school, because she wasn’t willing to walk away from it. Gavin had an idea for how he could make the latter part palatable and insisted on coming along. Conor wasn’t about be left out of this meeting and the two pairs of Jessica and Shay, Gavin and Conor, ended up in separate hired cars for the ride to the school now that the paparazzi attention had lightened and they were able to travel freely.

  “So, you’re on top of things,” Conor commented as he and Gavin relaxed in the back of their Lexus SUV.

  “Have to be, don’t I? Shay was in over his head.”

  That response was true, but Conor sensed it wasn’t the whole story for why Gavin had dropped everything and flown out.

  “Sophie and Daisy okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, doing well. I gotta call them before it gets too late there. Although, odds are good that both my girls will be up even in the middle of the night,” Gavin said with a rueful smile.

  Conor nodded. He examined his friend for a moment, noticing that he was distracted and somewhat off. There was something bothering him that he was trying—unsuccessfully—to suppress. Then he remembered the reason Gavin had initially had for being unable to come out this way.

  “How was your visit with Bernadette?” he asked.

  Bernadette was Gavin’s mother. The mother who had abandoned him and her family after a traumatic car accident that killed Gavin’s two-year-old sister, Nora. Gavin had spent the rest of his life in anguished, wounded limbo, not knowing whether his mother was alive or dead. And too afraid for most of those years to find out the answer—both because the hurt had served him well, honing his songwriting abilities and generating massive hits for the band, and because he didn’t know what a reunion with his mother would look like. If he met with her, would her answers of why she abandoned him solve or assuage anything? Could he ever really forgive her? But when Gavin and Sophie were at the lowest point in their marriage—separation, really—he finally sought out and confronted his mother. The visit hadn’t resolved much, leaving Gavin with wildly mixed emotions over who his mother was, what she became, and even her grasp on reality. He’d had one other visit, with Sophie by his side, that Conor knew about. It had gone about the same as the first time and Gavin spent the following months avoiding more visits.

  “Grand,” Gavin replied.

  The one-word answer did not inspire confidence. Conor waited silently for Gavin to continue. He knew he would. It wasn’t like him to hold back.

  “I mean, it started fine,” Gavin continued. “She was over the moon to meet Daisy. Said all the right things about Sophie looking great and how we seemed to be amazing parents. She held Daisy for a while.”

  Again, Conor waited Gavin out as he fell into silence. He knew it wouldn’t take them very much longer to get to the ballet school and he hoped they had time to finish this conversation. Before Sophie had ever entered Gavin’s life, Conor was the one Gavin relied on, the one he leaned on for this most personal of issues. When Sophie replaced him in that role, he’d been jealous and hurt. It took him a long time to understand that it was still his role, even if at times he was secondary to Sophie.

  “Then she started calling the baby Nora,” Gavin said. “We corrected her once. Then twice. Then she started talking about how she pulled the baby, our Daisy, from the morgue and saved her.”

  Conor winced. Bernadette had left the hospital after the accident upon convincing a nurse to let her see her daughter’s body in the morgue.

  “God’s plan,” Gavin said. “That’s what she called it. She said it had all come about this way so that I could deliver Nora to her.”

  “Jesus, Gav. What a mindfuck.” Conor said.

  “All I could think, to be honest, was how can I get my daughter out of this woman’s hands without harming her? The baby, I mean. I felt this fierce surge of needing to protect her and get her away from my mother.”

  “What did you do?”

  Gavin laughed softly. “Nothing.”

  “No?”

  “Sophie was the one. You know how she is. She sat right next to Bernadette, said something about ‘Nora’ needing a changing, her voice real sweet and soothing. And Bernadette just handed the baby over. We managed to leave not long after without too much hassle. But, fuck, it was awful.”

  “I don’t blame you for needing to get away.”

  Gavin looked at him, caught. This is why Gavin had boarded a private flight to San Francisco and thrown himself headlong into the project of redeeming Shay. Not that he wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if he had been free to, but this explained a lot. Gavin let his head fall back against the headrest.

  “Yeah, I sort of ran away from home,” he said with a sigh.

  “Is there something more?”

  Gavin laughed. “That isn’t enough?”

  Conor waited, confident that Gavin would add more to the story if there was more to tell.

  “Well,” Gavin started, “to be honest, my head is fucked up with so many things right now. I mean, I’ve got this beautiful baby daughter and I’d do anything for her. But then I’ve got my mother bringing up Nora. And it all hit me at once.”

  “What did?”

  Gavin looked at him wide-eyed. “I never once mourned for my sister. I blocked her death out so completely that I barely remember her. And yet, I’ve got this churning sorrow in me right along with the greatest happiness I’ve ever known.”

  “Jesus,” Conor said, unable to formulate anything else. He didn’t know about that kind of loss. It was what had always made Gavin such an intense performer and amazing songwriter. He funneled his pain into music as a release. The only thing Conor could think to do to support his friend was to push him back toward that kind of musical catharsis. “I bet we can put some of this into a song.”

  “You read my mind. In fact, I have an exceedingly dark idea that ties in with that horrendous shooting here in the States a while back. The one where two dozen five and six-year-olds were killed.”

  Conor felt a flush of adrenaline in thinking both about the subject matter and the idea of making new music. “Got a title?” Gavin’s song titles were often the jumping off point to his overall direction of the subject
matter.

  “Yeah. ‘Thoughts and Prayers.’ As in, that’s all that’s ever offered or done by politicians and the like. And yet, I’m bleeding here, on bended knee, can’t you see? I need your thoughts and prayers.”

  That last bit was Gavin already having sketched out lyrics. When he was inspired, they would come fast and it was a thrill to keep up with him on guitar. Conor had feared the shifting dynamics created by Gavin becoming a father would endanger the band’s future. But now he realized they very well could be on the cusp of a new prolific period. They had a lot to say yet.

  “Brilliant. We’ll work on it when we get back home, yeah?” Conor could already hear the beginnings of a riff that had the kind of ache and anger that would match the lyrics.

  “Yes, let’s.”

  The car pulled into the ballet school’s tiny parking lot.

  “And how’s Sophie?” Conor asked. He wondered how she was handling Gavin’s wild swing of emotions over everything he had just revealed, even as he knew it was no longer his place to worry for her. Some things did die hard. Or not at all. He would always love and care for Sophie. Only now, it was in the way it always should have been, as close friends.

  “Sophie, my amazingly patient Sophie. She’s completely supportive, even as I left her all on her own.”

  “Sounds like Sophie.”

  “Ah, I suppose Celia will take it upon herself to come round. And I’m not staying more than a few days. This thing is already halfway sorted.”

  “Thanks to you and your media savvy ways.”

  “Ah, I’m just here to support my friend and bandmate,” Gavin replied with a wink and Conor laughed.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  “You okay?”

  Jessica nodded but was silent and Shay took her hand into his. Jesus, what a whirlwind the last few days had been. He tried not to dwell on the roller coaster of emotions he had been through and instead focus on the fact that he had gotten what he wanted. Jessica was his.

  The streets were getting more crowded with pedestrians as their car headed into the city’s Mission District and toward the ballet school. Frequent sightings of taquerias and colorful murals signaled the shift to a predominantly Hispanic area.

  Shay knew Jessica was nervous. This was an incredibly uncomfortable scenario, all of them showing up at once to confront Anton. Well, actually, Gavin’s suggestion was for Jessica to meet first with Anton, then text Shay with the okay for the rest of them to come in. From there, Gavin had a plan that he hadn’t yet specified, but it had something to do with the Rolling Stone magazine journalist and photographer en route to the city.

  “Do you know what you’ll say?” he asked.

  “Hmm?” she replied with distraction.

  “To Anton. What’ll you say?”

  “Oh, I’m not that worried about that. I was thinking about us. What do we do next?”

  “How do you mean?”

  She shrugged with a half-smile that brought out her dimples. “I told you this was complicated.”

  “Yes. And I’m okay with that.”

  “Babe, I love you and I want to be with you but I don’t want to move back to Ireland,” she said quickly, forcing herself to get it out. She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited his response.

  Shay hadn’t gotten so far as to even think about living arrangements. Of course, it was something they needed to figure out, especially with her so invested—financially and emotionally—in the school. When he had asked her to move to Dublin before, he’d never once considered volunteering to be the one to move. At the time, she had just graduated and didn’t have a job or much else to tie her to any one place. It had seemed natural for her to move to his world. He had never wanted to live anywhere but Dublin, especially given that the rest of the band was still committed to being there. Being in the same city meant they could easily get together to work on new music and keep their connection tight.

  But he realized, even if Jessica was willing to move again, which she didn’t appear to be, it wasn’t fair to ask her to sacrifice all over again. He had to meet her at least halfway this time if they were to have a real chance. No more prioritizing his life and sharing only half-truths. It was time to be completely open and giving, no matter how much his instincts told him to do the opposite. She was worth taking those risks.

  Slowly opening one eye, then the other, she looked at him. “We can do the long-distance thing,” she continued when he didn’t respond right away. “We can make it work, right?”

  “No, love,” he said and saw disappointment wash over her face. His ability to stick his foot in his mouth was phenomenal. “What I meant was, I’ll move here.” The words flowed, but what surprised him wasn’t how easily they came but how right they felt.

  “You wouldn’t.” Now she was wide-eyed.

  “I would.”

  “What about being close to the band?”

  “We’re not kids anymore. We don’t need to be in each other’s pockets. Anyway, now Gav’s a dad and I’m sure Conor’s headed that way. Things are different. We’ll connect when we need to for making music. Otherwise, I’ve got to live my life.”

  “What about Danny Boy?”

  That stopped him cold. He hadn’t thought how his brother would fit into this scenario.

  “Well,” he said, “he still needs to be watched over as much as possible, but I’ll not have him living with us or anything like that.”

  “Really? I mean, maybe it’s not fair for me to push that. I know how much you feel responsible for him.”

  “Ay, I do, but . . . I need to make this work for everyone.” Even as he said it, he knew he was falling into his old habit of wanting to please and accommodate everyone before himself. But maybe he could make it work. He had to try.

  “I think you’d really love it here, Shay,” Jessica told him.

  “I think so, too,” he told her. And he meant it. The idea of moving to a new city to be with the woman he loved felt like just what he needed. It was a chance to forge his own path and he finally felt ready.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Jessica let herself into the ballet school—Meilleur Ballet Russe—and couldn’t help but shake her head, as she invariably did, at the name Anton had chosen. It was French for “Best Russian Ballet.” It was a projection of his ego before anyone walked in the door. The problem was that he was an excellent teacher and had the skills to back up the boast. His confidence was part of what drew her to him initially. It was seductive because it meant that when he proclaimed something about another dancer it either legitimized or disqualified them.

  As she moved quickly past the check-in desk, she nodded at the receptionist and headed straight for the largest of the studios. It was where she knew Anton would be at this time of day, teaching a class of boys. She hadn’t thought much about what she would say to him. The way things had unfolded was unfortunate, both on her part and definitely on his part. The threats he had made were inexcusable and unforgivable. That, on top of what she already knew to be true—that she never should have gotten into a relationship with him all over again—steeled her resolve to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  Opening the door to the studio a couple inches, she had the eyes of eight boys turn to her in rapid succession. Anton stood at the front of the class, slow to turn her attention to her. At 5’11’, he was all compact muscle, untamed brown hair, and imperious posture. When he leveled his gaze upon her, his slightly hooded eyes were an icier shade of blue than normal. He stared at her for a full ten seconds before turning back to his class with instructions for them to keep working their warm up routine until he returned.

  “Good. You are back,” he told her as he stepped outside the room. He grabbed her firmly by the upper arm and led her to the small office they shared.

  The two desks pushed together in the center of the room were crowded with computer monitors, telephones, and paperwork that had yet to be dealt with. One of the desk lamps was on but the overhead lights were
off, creating a soft, almost intimate feeling as Anton closed the door.

  “So, your wayward time is over, yes?” he asked.

  The smile playing at the corner of his mouth was self-satisfied and incredibly condescending. Jessica couldn’t remember why she had ever been attracted to this man.

  “If you ask me nicely,” he continued, “I may forgive you. But it will take time.”

  She wanted to laugh, and before she could stop herself, she did. His ridiculous smile was replaced by a scowl.

  “Let’s not be immature. You have a lot to make up for after all this, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” she said.

  “Yes, well.” He took a deep breath and surveyed her, letting his eyes wander over her from head to toe, lingering for a moment at her lips. They were raw from Shay’s bites and kisses. “Are you ready to teach? It’s full dress rehearsal for Stern Grove. Or had you forgotten? Again.”

  He was barely containing his anger. The only thing that seemed to hold it back was his desire to draw out making her “earn” his forgiveness. But none of that would be happening.

  “Anton, I haven’t come back for the reason you seem to think.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m here for the kids. I’m here for the school. I’m not here to be yours anymore. You and I are done. We should have never been together again to start with.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her but she saw a flash of genuine pain cross his face. She felt sorry for him in that moment, sorry that it had all come about this way, so messy and hurtful. But, of course, he got past that feeling quickly and gave in instead to lashing out. Because the true hurt was to his pride.

  “You’re telling me you’ve chosen to go back to the little drummer boy? Please, Jessica, with all this back and forth between us men, maybe you can help me keep track of whose turn it is? Hmm?”

  “I’m not going to indulge you in this talk. I just thought you deserved to hear it from me in person.”