Cadence is bubbling over with excitement. “Mommy, we want to know if you want to be a family.”
“A family?”
Ash nods. “Marry me, Ember. Be my wife.”
Cadence is hugging us both, her happiness all I ever wanted. We found it. All three of us.
“Of course I will marry you, Asher Stone.”
He exhales, pulling out a ring. “I love you and Cadence so much, and I want to be the man you both need.” He slips a ring on my finger, and the glittering diamond catches the light.
Everyone claps, cheering for our engagement and Ash stands, wrapping both his girls in his arms.
“Shall we make another toast?” he asks, raising his glass of champagne.
I shake my head. “Actually,” I say, looking into his eyes. “I’m not drinking.”
“Really?” He narrows his eyes, reading between the lines.
I nod, my heart pounding. Everything is happening fast, and just like it should. “We’re having a baby.”
I hear Millie gasp, and Ash’s mom sigh and Cadence looks up at me in wonder.
“I’m gonna be a big sister?”
I nod. “Yeah sweetie, you are. And Ash is gonna be a daddy.”
Ash is stunned but in the most perfect way.
Synn is recording every minute of this on his phone, Saint takes photos and Dusky is speechless. Absinthe is more than a bad boy rock band - their lead singer is going to be a father.
“What do you think, Ash?” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and he pulls me close.
“I think I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Our noses touch, his mouth meets mine. We kiss, our souls linked, our hearts beating as one.
Our life together more than a rhythm.
It’s a perfect harmony.
Epilogue II
Ash
Five years later
Being on stage never gets old - well, not anymore at least. There was a while there, before Ember, that I wondered if I’d ever step on stage again. But now, it’s my second home. When I’m not at the house with Ember, Cadence, Melody, and Lyric, I’m here - performing for my fans.
More fans now than ever before. Turns out transitioning into a solo career made the most sense for me. Not because I didn’t want to keep performing with the band, hell, the guys and I get together often enough for a show - but my music has changed over time, and it was time to branch out.
Now, I stand with a guitar in hand, before an amphitheater, singing my goddamn heart out.
Tonight is special, the entire family is here, off stage. I didn’t know if they would make it. And my heart swells when I see them.
When I play the opening chords of the song, that happened to be my break out hit, the crowd goes nuts.
I look over my shoulder, see Ember standing there, her eyes bright as ever, holding our year old son, Lyric, in her arms. She shines, that girl and god do I love her. Cadence is next to her, holding Melody’s hand. Both of them looking at me like I hung the stars and moon in the sky.
That’s the way they make me feel. Like I can do anything. Like I’m more than my past mistakes.
I’m their father. It’s the best job in the world. And I’d take their hugs and kisses over a million screaming fans any day.
“This song is for the love of my life,” I say, grinning over my shoulder at Ember. “The woman who picked me up when I was down, loved me all the same.”
I want my kids to be proud of me, and when I begin to sing, I look at them, feeling so much love filling this arena. How could it not? Inspiration can be found anywhere, but I found mine right here, with my family.
I’ll keep runnin’
Every damn day.
I’ll keep runnin’
So you gotta stay.
Into your arms, that’s where I’ll be.
Runnin’ so fast, you’re all I see.
Didn’t think I was born for this, yet here I am.
Being the one you need, a family man.
I’ll keep runnin’
So long as you’re mine.
Runnin’ into your arms
Till the end of time.
When I finish the song, I thank the crowd before hurrying off stage I wrap my arms around Ember. “You made it, baby.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
It’s a special night, yes because they are here, but also because it’s Cadence’s birthday.
“They’re ready for the encore,” my manager says. “You ready?”
The amphitheater is thrumming with energy and I grin at my wife. She nods, giving me the go-ahead.
“Hey, Cadence, you wanna come play with me?”
Her eyes grow wide, big as the moon. “Really, Dad?”
“Your new song is beautiful. They’ll love it.”
She covers her face, trying to compose herself. Ember and I don’t want to pressure her into this, but the other part of us knows it is our girl’s heart and soul. She plays the piano for hours each day, has more talent in her pinky than I do in my whole body.
“Will you sing with me?” she asks.
I look down at the daughter I’ve raised as my own. I fell in love with her mother, but I fell in love with her too. Being her father has been one of my life’s greatest sources of pride. When Mitch went AWOL a few years back, getting himself into a shitload of trouble, arrests, jail time, and then a stint in federal prison, he agreed to sign paperwork, letting me adopt her. But even without the papers, she was already mine.
“It would be an honor, milady,” I say, bowing to her, reminding us both of the day we met, so many years ago. Turns out, the rest is history. She will be my little princess until the day I die.
I give Ember a kiss, Lyric and Melody too, then I look down at Cadence. “Shall we?”
Hand-in-hand, we step on stage, the crowd going wild.
“I have a special guest tonight, her name is Cadence and she wrote a song for you.”
Cadence sits down at the piano and crew members begin adjusting her mic and checking the sound. I sit down beside her, like we’ve done so many times before. Ever since I moved into her grandma’s house when she was six years old, she’s been getting lessons. Both from her mom and me, and from Synn whenever he comes to visit. One week at a time, and then she took off. Her passion for music was born. Nothing could tame it.
Synn is proud as hell - says he’s the reason she has an edge. We let him think that, because really, I owe Synn a hell of a lot. Without him, I’d never be pushed to get my act together. To change my life. And without that, I wouldn’t have what I have today.
All of our families get together a few times a year, and Cadence loves to jam with the old band. It’s pretty adorable, reminding us of the good old days, that one month that changed our lives. I know that when they see a video of this performance tonight, they will be grinning ear-to-ear.
Sitting here now, I know Cadence is nervous, but I nod, telling her it’s going to be okay. She giggles - and even though she’s growing up, her giggles send me back to another time, when she was still small enough to curl into my lap when I read her a story.
She begins to play the song, her fingers gliding over the keys and I look across the stage at Ember, who is clearly in tears. I smile at her, knowing this moment, right here, is one we will never forget. She has been the most incredible wife, sure, but she is a mother who truly blows me away. Her devotion to our kids is nothing short of magic.
Cadence’s small voice is amplified in the microphone, and I still myself, listening to her sing: Our knight in shining armor, a rock star with a shield.
I’d be lying if I said my eyes were dry.
Hell, how I came from there to here, is beyond me. I don’t deserve a lick of it, a rock star with a broken past who was given a second chance.
What Ember and I’ve created is more than a wildfire - it’s a wild love.
And there’s nothing that’s gonna extinguish this flame.
Preview of
Torment
I hope you enjoyed One More Song!
Are you wanting some more rock star love?
Here’s a preview of Torment, starring the notorious Zee St. James!
And the boys of Wild Irish are waiting for you!
Wild Irish
Tempting Irish
Taming Irish
xo, Chantel
Chapter One
Quinn
A rumble of thunder in the distance has more than a dozen black umbrellas opening, and stoic faces glancing up at the sky. Darker clouds roll towards us as a storm approaches off Lake Erie.
The weather is as volatile as the emotions that twist Zee St. James’ handsome face into a scowl. I watch the tick in his jaw as the Minister continues his unmerited praise of the man’s father. Zee’s lips, which are usually full and soft, a sharp contrast to the hard edges of his other features, thin, as his nostrils flare. All I want to do is wrap my arms around him.
I’ve never seen anyone look so utterly alone.
Green eyes with flecks of gold, a color I know from memory, are currently hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses. Through the tinted lenses, I know when his gaze lands on me.
As I hold that gaze, my skin burns hot, even when icy pellets of rain begin to fall.
Zee swallows hard, then looks away. I want to beg him to look back again, desperate for even a morsel of attention, a hint of acknowledgement.
God, you’re pathetic, Quinn.
The St. James brothers have been part of my life since I was in diapers. They’re family, which should mean that I shouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on the older of the two.
But I do.
Because who the hell wouldn’t?
Zee St. James is gorgeous.
In the dark suit that’s fitted perfectly for his six-foot-four frame, he looks every day of twenty-four-years, reminding me of the six years that separate us.
He’s a man.
Beautiful and damaged.
And completely off limits.
Scruff, a darker shade of brown than his hair, coats his jaw. I follow the movement of his hand as he rubs his palm over it.
A small sigh escapes my lips. A sound that must be louder than I thought, because my brother Abbott bumps me with his elbow and gives me a funny look, one that looks a little too much like, It’s a funeral, Quinn. Not the best place to fantasize over a man who you’ll never have.
My cheeks warm, hating that anyone, especially my annoying brother, might know my feelings.
More wind lashes around me, and I shiver, trying to keep my damn skirt from flipping up and my long hair from whipping around like Medusa’s snakes. Beside Abbott, my mom, whose hair and pressed black dress seem crazy glued in place, gives me a pointed look. And I can hear the lecture I know she’s dying to give me. One that would start with, “I told you not to wear that skirt...”
But my wardrobe malfunction is the least of my concerns. Not when Zee is hurting the way he is. I wish I could go back to a time when he’d talk to me, rather than the sullen broodiness I get from him now.
I don’t know what changed, other than me getting boobs. But from the rumors I’ve heard about him, he’s seen his fair share. Enough not to be intimidated by mine.
Zee crouches, broad shoulders slumped forward as he reaches down and grabs a fistful of dirt, hesitating briefly before tossing it on top of the casket.
Emotions storm inside of me as I watch him, feeling the torment that lashes through the man. Damaged in ways I can’t fathom. His edges cut sharper than any blade. Angry at the world and everyone around him.
And yet I love him.
Given a chance, I’d take every shattered part of the man and make it my life mission to repair him. Do anything to finally feel his strong, calloused hands on my body, to taste his lips, and give him every part of my body, heart and soul.
He already owns them. Owns me.
Yeah, pathetic.
When Zee doesn’t move back, his brother, Liam, places a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off as he stands. Angry words are spoken between them, words that are muted by the howling wind. My brother Kade gets in the middle, placing a palm on Zee’s chest, and whispering something in his ear.
The Minister continues his boring eulogy in a monotonous tone as if there isn’t about to be a sibling brawl right beside him.
Zee gives a harsh shake of his head, pushing away from Kade, before turning his back and stalking down the hill towards the cars that line the road. Even from a distance, I can see the caged animal inside the man, pacing to get out. He’s always been wild, untamed, and Kade has been the only one who he’s ever seemed to open up to. But lately he’s even pulled away from him.
I breathe out harshly when Zee gets on his motorcycle and speeds out of the cemetery, tires creating a cloud of dirt, stones, and smoke as they squeal away, giving the town — half of which showed up to this circus — something else to criticize him for.
Already I hear the mumblings.
“Like father, like son.”
“How disrespectful.”
“He always was a bad-tempered boy.”
I twist around and glare at the older woman who’s made the last comment, and she purses her lips at me. I shouldn’t let it bother me. In a small town like Port Clover, you’re either the one doing the gossiping or you’re being gossiped about.
The Savages and St. James have always been a prime target of the latter. Not that we didn’t give the old hens something to cluck about. Along with my brothers, the St. James caused enough trouble when they were growing up and that the phrase, “If you don’t know who did it, blame the Savages and Saints,” had become an official saying in town.
Zee and my brother Kade had cashed in on the term a couple years ago by opening a bar by the marina, and naming it, Savages and Saints.
It’s there that we go after the funeral. To the weathered old building, where my brother and Zee share an apartment on the second floor.
I sit in one of the back booths with my Diet Coke, watching the window for any sign of Zee. An hour goes by and he still doesn’t show up. I’m not sure if he will. He’d been disappearing for days, sometimes weeks at a time lately.
“You look miserable,” Abbott says, sliding into the booth and pulling out a bottle of Jameson from his suit jacket. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he pours a large amount in my Diet Coke, then takes a deep swallow from the bottle.
I raise an eyebrow. The youngest of my brothers, he’s still a year away from legal drinking age. “Where did you get that?”
He shrugs, takes another swig before recapping it and hiding it back under his jacket. “There’s like five cases of this shit in the back room.”
“Kade will kill you if he finds out,” I say, but it doesn’t stop me from sipping the whiskey-laced Coke.
I wince as it burns a path down my throat.
“You going to tell?” He raises a dark brow.
“No.”
My other three brothers are by the bar, heads tilted together in what seems like a serious conversation. We all get along fine, for the most part. The older three, Jasper, Kade and Damon, can be annoyingly overprotective. It’s Abbott I butt heads with the most, probably because we’re the closest in age, only thirteen months apart. That, and he teases me mercilessly.
Dragging a hand over his dark, cropped hair, Abbott’s brows pull together. “Zee seems pretty upset.”
I follow Abbott’s gaze across the room, where Zee has just walked in, and my heart does the painful little dance it always does when I see him. Stupid heart.
I shrug and try not to let how he affects me show on my face. “His dad just died.”
Abbott grunts. “The guy was a class-A asshole. You remember how many times Liam and Zee came over with busted up lips and bruises—”
“Still.” I let out a small sigh, watching as Zee disappears behind the bar. “He was Zee’s dad. I can’t imagine how hard this has been on him.”
My throat constricts as I watch Zee peel off his suit jacket and loosen his tie. He rolls up the sleeves of his button down, exposing the dark ink on his muscular forearms. He looks everything like the town’s official bad boy, which he is.
And then there’s his voice. Rough and grainy, yet softer than silk when he sings. I’ve snuck into the back of Savages and Saints a few times, when I knew Kade and him were playing on Saturday nights. They’re good. Really good. Unlike Zee, my brother has no ambition other than running the bar.
“Quinn.” There’s warning in the way Abbott says my name, and when I glance back at him he’s studying me with a frown.
“What?”
His lips thin and he gives a harsh shake of his head. He leans forward, forearms on the table, and sighs. “He’s not the guy you think he is.”
“Who?” I feign innocence, like I wasn’t just drooling over the man who’s currently slamming back shots of whiskey as if they’re water.
Abbott rolls his eyes. “Zee. He’s bad news.”
Yeah, I know that. But there’s more to him.
“And you’re not?” I joke, but it only gets me a scowl in return. I let out an exasperated breath. “He’s...family.”
Except he’s not. And what I feel for him is far from sisterly affection.
“I see the way you look at him.”
God, is it that obvious? “I don’t—”
“Just stay away. If he touches you, it won’t just be Kade who he’ll have to worry about.”
I make a face, trying to keep my emotions hidden. “Don’t be gross. He’s like twenty-four and—”
“And you’re eighteen—”
“Almost nineteen,” I add quickly, regretting it immediately.
Abbott’s jaw clenches. “Just find someone your own age.”
I grin at him and wiggle my brows and tease, “Like one of your friends?” I glance around the room then nod towards two of Abbott’s football buddies, who are doing a really shitty job at hiding the flask they pass between them. “Ace Hawkins is kind of cute, Maybe he and I—”
One More Song Page 15