A frown creased her brow. “I think I’ve let my history with your father color my judgment. So many times, he made promises. And so many times, he broke them. But I kept taking him back, hoping each time that things would be different.”
“I know, Mom. I was there, remember?”
She nodded. “I saw that same pattern developing between you and Lace. I’m afraid you love her too much,” she said, and her voice cracked. “And that she’ll hurt you like your dad hurt me.”
“He hurt all of us,” I said softly.
“Yes, I see that now. I’m sorry I allowed that to happen.”
“It’s okay, but Lace isn’t like him.”
“I don’t know that for sure. But I realize now, that’s not for me to decide. That’s up to you.”
I was silent for a moment, letting that sink in.
She lifted her chin and looked me straight in the eyes. “I told you once that sometimes love means letting go, but maybe that was just my old bitterness welling up. I was trying to protect you, Bryan. I was trying to protect you back in high school, when Lace came to visit us and all those record deals were on the line. But maybe I was wrong to interfere, both then and now. In fact, I know I am. I should be encouraging you to make your own decisions. Live your life. Take risks, even.”
My mom was right. Damn right. It hit me like a punch to the gut.
Lace was worth the risk. My stupid pride had blinded me from seeing that. It had kept me from agreeing to her stipulations, and acknowledging how brave she was to want to prove herself before we moved forward together.
“Thanks, Mom.” I put my arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Lace and you are a lot alike. Both so beautiful. Both so resilient.”
“I love you, son.” Mom laid her palm against my cheek, and I covered her hand with mine. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she smiled at me. “You’re a good man. You’ll figure it out and do the right thing. And whatever you decide, I’m behind you.”
• • •
After my mom left, I did some heavy thinking. I thought about high school, and how I’d stepped aside from pursuing Lace because of my friendship with War. I thought about how difficult that had been watching the two of them—the two people I loved most in the world—grow close.
In the beginning, I told myself it was okay because War had done right by her. Sure, he was overly jealous, but I couldn’t fault him for that. Even wanting her for myself, I couldn’t fault him for doing everything in his power to keep her for his own.
However, I could fault him for the crap he’d pulled as we neared graduation. As things had started to go well for the band, War had changed. He’d consistently put his dream over Lace’s. Though in his typical manipulative fashion, he’d called his dream her dream, and made excuses for modifying it without consulting her or anyone else. That had led to a downward spiral for her, for him, for me, for all three of us.
Loving someone, do you manipulate them, or do you encourage them to be the best they can be?
That’s what it comes down to with love, isn’t it? Real love, love worth having, requires putting the other person’s needs, desires, and dreams above your own.
Lace wanted that. I wanted that. But I screwed it up.
I slid my cell out of my pocket and called Dizzy’s number. It only rang once.
“Yo, man,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I screwed up. With Lace.”
“You did. About fucking time you acknowledged that.”
“Don’t be an ass. Will you help me fix things with her?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“What you have in mind.”
“For starters, I want to set up a scholarship for her to study fashion. But I want it to be anonymous. A grant. A need-based thing.”
“I’ll help you,” he said.
My lips curved.
“What else?” he asked.
“I don’t want to interfere with her efforts to prove herself, but I want her safe while she does that.”
“Me fucking too.”
“Where is she, Diz?” Wherever she was, I was going to be. As soon as I could make it happen.
“Vancouver. Waitressing and living in a hostel. But Mary just offered her a better job, doing part-time vocal work at Black Cat. Just the right time for her to find out about anonymous funding and enroll in fashion school. I’m also thinking it’s time for you to appear and lay your cards out. Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Oh yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You think she’ll forgive me?”
“Not for me to say, Bry. But if you give her yourself, all of you, I don’t think she’s gonna turn that down.”
I sure the hell hoped not.
Life fucking sucked without her in it.
CHAPTER FORTY
Lace
I heard the haunting acoustic melody as soon as I passed Black Cat’s reception desk on my way in to work. I walked a little faster, trying to balance the backpack on my shoulder and my coffee without spilling it. The somber sound compelled me forward, directly toward its source.
In studio six, I found a guitarist I’d never seen before. His auburn head lifted, and gorgeous emerald-green eyes that I felt certain I’d seen before focused on me.
Comprehension suddenly dawned. No doubt about it—this was Avery’s twin. The physical similarities were striking.
My heart rate kicked into a higher gear as he gazed curiously back at me. He was really good-looking, if you were into beautifully handsome men like Michelangelo’s David. Dark and dangerous was more my speed, but I shouldn’t go there. I clamped my mind shut to keep Bryan’s memory out.
Yeah, as if that will work.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, stepping into the small ten-by-twelve room. I glanced at his guitar with the hummingbird pick guard. “That’s a nice instrument. Really sweet tone. And you play it well.”
“Thanks.” He slid off his stool with a grin, his full lips revealing a flash of white teeth. “Justin Jones.” He held out his hand.
Duh, I thought, dropping my backpack and moving my coffee to my left hand so I could take his. “Lace Lowell.”
I returned his infectious grin, his callouses rough against my skin as our hands touched. If I hadn’t already heard him play, that alone would have clued me in to the fact that Avery’s brother wasn’t a casual musician.
“We’ve both got the alliteration thing going on with our names, haven’t we?” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah.” He leaned his head to the side as if intrigued by me.
Well, I sure as hell was intrigued by him. It was really strange. As quickly as I’d taken a dislike to Justin’s sister, I found him to be inexplicably affable.
“Oh, you’re both already here. Good.”
Beth, the congenial PR woman for Black Cat, entered the room and insinuated herself between us. After only a week working in the studio, I’d come to realize that Beth was also Mary’s closest confidante.
“Mary wants you to work together for a while. She feels that your voices and music sensibilities are compatible.” She handed me some sheet music. “Today she wants you to focus on some covers. Just basic stuff. Dalton will be here after lunch to record, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”
We both nodded. I turned back to Justin as soon as she was gone. He was standing close, looking over my shoulder at the sheet music. Way too close.
“‘Roadside,’ huh? Not too bad.”
I took a step away from him. Better get this out of the way. Justin seemed like a nice guy, but I wasn’t going there. Not with him. Not with anybody else. Not ever again.
Deep inhale.
“Listen, Justin. I’m really looking forward to working with you, but I just need you to know that I’m not interested in anything else, okay?”
He scanned my face, not saying anything for a minute. “Bad breakup?”
I snorted. “Breakup would imply there had been
an actual relationship in the first place.” I’d tried for a lighthearted tone, but self-pitying tears were stinging my eyes. “There’s just a guy that I’m never going to get over, you know?”
“No worries. I promise not to think of you as an entrée if you promise to think of me as a friend.”
I grinned. “I can totally do that.”
I’d been so lonely up here in Vancouver without the guys, without my brother. I even found myself missing Bridget’s nonstop chatter.
• • •
By the end of the second week, Justin and I had already cranked out a half dozen original songs.
Meanwhile, I’d enrolled in fashion classes at the Blanche MacDonald Centre. Miraculously, the exorbitant tuition that had been far beyond my reach, even with my new part-time job, was one hundred percent covered by a very generous anonymous grant.
Avery’s twin and I were productive in the studio and enjoyed each other’s company. Like me, Justin didn’t seem to be interested in serious relationships. Though I couldn’t help but notice that he had a lot of one-night stands. Anywhere we went, women would come on to him and slip him their phone numbers.
We fell into an easy pattern of hanging out together whenever we had free time. Justin was staying at the Sutton also, and I discovered that he felt as isolated in Vancouver as I did.
His sister lived in an apartment near the waterfront, just far enough away to be inconvenient for day-to-day visiting. Plus, she had a busy schedule, thank God. Their dad was sick and living on Vancouver Island with Marcus’s parents, Avery’s soon-to-be in-laws.
I shared most of my story with Justin. We had the common background with substance abuse, and appointed ourselves each other’s accountability partners.
Since our personalities were a lot alike, I wasn’t sure if that was a plus or a minus. We both liked to shop. He was really into men’s fashion. If it hadn’t been for the aforementioned one-night stands, I might seriously have wondered which way Justin swung.
The only thing I kept from him was the nitty-gritty details about my relationship with Bryan. Those I held tightly to myself. Though the way Justin looked at me, when I got myself tangled up again in the past, when I didn’t want to do anything but sit in my room and stare at the wall and remember, made me wonder just how much more he knew about me and Bryan than he let on.
Today, we’d finished up another song and were in the break room at Black Cat, negotiating our afternoon plans. Justin leaned against the counter in front of me while I stirred creamer into my coffee.
“Mintage Vintage,” I said, my voice a little whiny as I lobbied for us to check out my favorite vintage clothing shop. “We did Armani Exchange yesterday. Speaking of that . . .”
I bit my lip. Maybe I shouldn’t mention it. Justin already gave me a lot of grief about jogging alone. But yesterday at the Exchange, I’d gotten a feeling that someone was watching me. Actually, I’d had the feeling a lot over the past two weeks. But this time, I’d smelled cigarette smoke, and the fine hairs had stood up on the nape of my neck.
“What?” Justin asked.
“Nothing,” I mumbled.
What could he do? It was just a feeling, after all. I’d never actually seen anyone. It was probably just my imagination.
“You don’t look like it’s nothing.” Justin looked over my shoulder, his face brightening with a huge smile. “Avery.”
I spun around just in time to catch his twin’s disapproving frown.
“I thought you were visiting Dad,” Justin said. “When did you get back in town?”
“Today.” Avery looked back and forth between the two of us. Her expression was as tight as that stick up her ass. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Justin. In private?”
He nodded, following her out into the hall.
Even though I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that it was about me. And knowing Miss High and Mighty, I could imagine that it wasn’t complimentary.
When Justin came back in, he was alone, his expression as cloudy as Vancouver during a rain.
“Where’d she go?” I asked.
“To work on some solo material.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, something I knew he did when irritated.
I quirked a brow. “She thinks I might be a bad influence on you.”
“I told her it was more like the other way around,” he said. “She’s just being overprotective.”
“Oh.” I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. She and I just don’t get along.” I peered up at him through my lashes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think your sister’s a stuck-up bitch.”
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Why do I get the idea that you and Avery are a cat fight just waiting to happen?”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Lace
Later that night, I set aside my feelings of being watched and squinted at my cell. It lay like a cobra on the couch beside me, ready to strike. I needed to make the call, but imagining the reception I was likely to receive made me hesitate.
I’d been putting this off for weeks. Atonement was part of my healing process, one of the steps. He would probably hang up on me. And if he didn’t, there was likely to be some yelling. It wasn’t going to be easy to atone for past mistakes with him.
I let out a big sigh. It was past time to get this over with.
Selecting his number, I pressed SEND, and he picked up on the first ring.
“Lacey?” War’s voice was as smooth as it had ever been, but there was a hard edge to it that he’d never used with me before.
Well, at least he wasn’t shouting. Not yet.
“How are you?” I swallowed nervously.
“I’m fuckin’ great,” he snapped, and then let out a loud sigh. “What do you want?”
Okay, not yelling, but close. I’d better get right to it.
“I want to apologize, War. I really messed up with us, with you, and with . . . with Bryan,” I said, stumbling on his name.
I never said it out loud anymore. Ever. Whenever I found myself even starting to think about him, I pulled on my running shoes and went jogging.
What’s he doing? Who’s he doing it with? Does he miss me the way I miss him?
Obviously, I ran a lot.
War didn’t respond. I could hear him breathing through the phone.
“I’m sorry,” I said, rushing to fill the silence. “That’s all I called to say, really. Except for one other thing.” I bit my lip. “War, you and Bryan are best friends. You need him, and he needs you. You need each other.”
“He put you up to this?” War didn’t just ask the question. He snarled it.
“No.” My chest burned. “I haven’t seen or heard from him in five weeks.” A short pause followed, and I couldn’t stop myself from asking with a desperate squeak, “Have you?”
“No.” There was a pause on War’s side of the connection. I could hear music in the background, and a female voice speaking in Spanish.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“None of your business. I gotta go.”
Dead air filled my ear.
There was no good-bye. I also didn’t miss that War hadn’t accepted my apology.
• • •
My cell rang at two in the morning, but quit ringing before I could locate it. I stumbled back to the bedroom and crawled under the covers. I was sound asleep when it started up again.
Shit. Shit.
I found it this time, between the cushions of the couch, and glanced at the display. Hesitating only a moment because the number was unfamiliar, I redialed the missed call.
“Hello?” a woman answered, and I recognized the musical voice right away.
“Bridget. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
Very few things are fine at two a.m. “What’s going on?”
“Listen, Lace.” Bridget sniffed. “Could . . . would it be okay if Carter and I came and stayed with you for
a little bit?”
“Sure,” I said without hesitation, remembering that Carter was her five-year-old son. “But I’m in Canada now. Do you and Carter have passports?”
“Yes.” Another sniff from Bridget, and then I heard a boy’s voice.
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
“I need to go now,” Bridget said quickly. “I’ll call you back when I have the flight information. And Lace?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” she said softly. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“No problem. That’s what best friends are for.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Bryan
Dizzy and I sat in the club chairs in the Sutton Place lobby, waiting for Lace.
Watching so intently, I saw her silhouette as she passed by the gold-framed lobby windows. Finally. My heart pounded hard against my ribs. I couldn’t wait to be close to her again, maybe very close if things went the way I hoped.
Lace breezed into the marble foyer and stopped in front of the table that always held a large vase of fresh-cut flowers. But she wasn’t alone. She was with him. Again.
My rapid heart rate screeched to a stop, and my gut twisted into a jealous knot. I’d wanted to give her the time she needed to regain her confidence before making my move. But maybe I’d waited too long.
Dizzy jumped up and flew across the room to greet her.
I’d spilled my guts out to him weeks ago, telling him the way I felt about her and what I was planning to do. He’d been cautiously supportive of my decision, but he hadn’t given me any indication how I would be received by her today.
Watching the brother/sister reunion, I held back, my hands in my jeans pockets, almost shaking with the control it took not to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and just run off with her.
Lace looked good. Fantastic, in fact. Her cheeks glowed, rosy from the cold, and she was wearing the same vintage pea coat she’d worn on the tour. The short hair still gave me pause, but I could see that the style was actually extremely flattering. The waifish cut emphasized her beautiful amber eyes, which had always captivated me.
The Complete Tempest World Box Set Page 50