“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “Rain in Florida is like wind in Chicago. You’ll get used to it. Besides, it never lasts long.”
She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah.”
“What’s the matter?”
She looks away. “Nothing…it’s just…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“Quinn—”
“There’s this incredible class taught by a prestigious acting coach that I really want to sign up for, but it’s in Los Angeles so I can’t attend if I come to Florida—”
“You’re staying with me.”
She’s my responsibility, which means she goes where I go.
“Please, Phoenix. I swear I will never ask you for anything ever again.”
“No.” Goddammit. Now her lower lip is quivering. “I’m sorry, but you’re still a kid. I’m not letting you stay in a house across the fucking country with no adult supervision.”
“I’m not a kid. I’ll be sixteen in nine days. Heck, in the Middle Ages, girls my age were already married and pushing out babies.” She crosses her arms. “And I’ll have adult supervision because Storm will be there.”
Storm snorts. “Not to babysit you.”
Batting her eyelashes, she turns to face him. “Please, Storm. Please. If you say yes, Phoenix will too, because he trusts you. I swear I won’t bother you. I just…I want this so bad. It’s my dream.”
“Not happening,” Storm says.
Quinn deflates. “But I need this. I’m literally begging you.” Her gaze ping-pongs between us. “How you guys feel about music is how I feel about acting. It’s everything to me. It’s the only reason I’m still alive.”
Fuck. Our personalities are vastly different, but that drive to pursue her dreams—because they saved you when all the bad shit nearly killed you—is clearly something we both share.
I don’t want to take that away from her.
I took away Lennon’s and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for it.
Storm and I exchange a glance and I know he’s about to cave.
So am I.
“Don’t expect me to cook for you or pick up after your shit,” Storm grunts.
“And you better get straight C’s in school,” I add. “I don’t care that you’re doing it online. It’s no excuse.”
Quinn blinks. “But I get straight A’s in school.”
Right. She’s the smart sibling.
“Then I better not see any C’s. The first time I do, your ass will be on the first plane back to Florida.”
Her face lights up. “Does that mean I can stay in LA?”
“I guess.”
Quinn lets out a squeal loud enough to wake the cemetery before throwing her arms around me. “You’re the best big brother in the whole entire world. Thank you so much.”
Technically, she should be thanking Storm. Aside from Lennon, he’s the only one I’d trust to look after her when I’m not around.
That’s when it occurs to me. “How are you paying for these prestigious acting classes?”
In other words, how much is it gonna cost me?
“With the money you gave me for being your personal assistant last week. It will be enough for five classes.”
At least she’s not spending it on implants.
But fuck, a thousand dollars per class? She better win an Oscar one day.
Letting out another squeal, she runs over to Skylar and Grams. “It worked. Phoenix is gonna let me stay.”
Memphis—who’s been busy on his phone—frowns. “I have to head back to LA. Gwen has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but she wants me home tonight.”
Storm makes the sound of a whip cracking.
“Moving into the Barclay mansion, huh? That’s gonna be…interesting.”
And by interesting? I mean, fucking horrifying.
Unlike his baby mama, Memphis values his privacy and lives a modest lifestyle. Shacking up with a reality show star that lives for drama and loves having cameras in her face twenty-four-seven is his worst nightmare.
His lack of response says more than any words can.
“When are you proposing?” Storm inquires with a smirk.
Dodging the question, he slaps a hand on my back. “Tell Lennon I’m sorry—”
The sound of people arguing has us whipping around.
“Leave me alone,” Lennon yells before slapping Chandler across the face.
I don’t know what this motherfucker did to upset her but whatever it was, it will be the last thing he ever does.
Memphis and Storm snatch both my arms a second before I pummel him into the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”
He rubs his bright-red cheek. “I simply tried to have a conversation with your wife and asked if she’d be willing to do an interview.”
“Interview for what?” Skylar questions.
“To set the record straight about…” He flicks a hand in my direction. “I’m trying to save the band. Something their PR person should be focusing on instead of planning funerals.”
He’s lucky I’m being restrained because I want to snap his goddamn neck like a fucking twig.
“There’s nothing to set the record straight about, and Lennon’s not doing any interviews on my behalf.”
The fact he would even ask Lennon, let alone at her father’s funeral, makes me want to bash his skull in.
No wonder she bitch-slapped him.
Skylar appears equally agitated. “I told you I was handling it.”
“No, you’re not,” Chandler booms. “Being eye candy for Josh isn’t going to cut it anymore. You have an actual job to do.”
Memphis takes a step back, releasing me. Storm follows suit.
Chandler raises a hand. “Before you three beat me to a bloody pulp, hear me out. I may seem like the bad guy, but it’s only because I give a shit. If you drive this band into the ground, that’s it. You only get one shot at the top and the fall down is brutal.” His shoulders slump. “Individually, the three of you are exceptionally talented, but the three of you together? You blow any other band out of the water. Don’t fuck this up.”
I get what he’s saying, but Lennon’s more important than music.
“We’re taking a hiatus.”
“For how long?”
I shrug. “Until further notice.”
Staring him down, I take a step closer. “Don’t harass my wife again. Because they won’t be able to hold me back next time.”
It’s his one and only warning.
Frustrated, he drags a hand through his hair. “You’re making a mistake.”
No. My mistake was losing Lennon.
“Phoenix is taking some time off for his mental health,” Skylar says. “That’s the statement we’re putting out.”
Works for me.
However, it’s clear Chandler doesn’t like that one bit. “What about his marriage to Lennon? You need to tell the press.”
Skylar shakes her head. “No. Not yet.”
Chandler makes a face. “What do you mean no? That’s the only angle we have—”