God. Were we doing this again?
Sadness shook my head. “You know that’s not going to happen, Nix.”
Our relationship had been tumultuous.
Off and on and off again.
He’d been the guy who’d stolen my eye when he’d gone riding by on his motorcycle, bad and mean and every-single-thing I should never want.
I didn’t really know how bad he was until a few months in, when I realized his line of work wasn’t exactly legal.
That I was getting caught up in something that I shouldn’t.
That was right about the time I’d found out I was pregnant with Penny. I’d given him an ultimatum—me and the baby or that life.
He’d walked.
I should have chalked it up to being a blessing, but when he’d cleaned up his life, turned himself around, and had shown up at my door wanting to take his position as Penny’s dad, I’d given him the benefit of the doubt.
Problem was, the man was a whirlwind, sweeping in, turning everything upside-down with a flick of his hand.
A few months later, I was pregnant with Greyson, and we were right back in the same position.
No more.
Not ever again.
I’d learned my lesson the hard way.
Twice.
I wouldn’t be repeating it.
The problem was, he’d been trying to convince me all that time to come back to him. That we could make it work when there was no chance that we could.
There was too much hurt and garbage and distrust littered between us.
But even then, he’d been there to support us. Being the best father to the kids that he could be. He’d even come alongside me when I’d been chasing down a dream of opening my own gallery, investing time and money and effort into the little shop.
My insides clutched at the thought of that building. At the memory.
At the vision of the walls and the floor where she’d lain.
Blood.
So much blood.
“Why not, Mia? Hasn’t enough time gone by? Haven’t I done enough?” he pushed.
My brow drew tight. “And you told me you were doing that because you care about me as a friend. Because you want the best life for our children.”
It was never supposed to come at a price.
He roughed a frustrated hand through his hair, angling away, before he was back to staring me down. “I did it because I love you. Because I always have. Because I love them. Because I want us to be a family.”
I blinked hard, fighting the emotion I could feel welling in my throat. “I’m sorry, Nix. But I can’t stay here.”
Dread filled the hard lines of his expression. “How am I supposed to take care of you when you’re not here? You need to stick close, Mia, until we find out what is happening. And besides . . . you’re just . . . going to walk away from the gallery? You need it.”
Chills crawled up my arms, a slow-slide of anguish and mourning. My hands chased it, like it might be enough to warm the cold spot carved out in the middle of me. “You know I can never step foot in that place again.”
His eyes pinched closed. “Then we’ll find another space.”
I backed up, looking for some space of my own.
“I’m sorry, Nix. But I’m going. Just for the summer. Penny loves it there, anyway. She’ll be with Kallie. You know what that will mean to her. It’s for the best.”
“And what about me?” Disappointment flooded his tone, his normal arrogant posture dampening in the rejection.
Taking another step backward, I gave him the most honest answer that I could. “It was never about you.”
Six
Leif
“Dude, if you even think about bailing on us, I will hunt you down and personally drag your ass back to South Carolina.” The tease Rhys sent me through the phone was delivered with the undercurrent of a threat.
Carolina George’s bassist was loud and crass, his big, bleeding heart worn on his sleeve with a scrap of barbed-wire around it to protect it.
My gaze drifted out the back window of the luxury SUV as I traveled deeper into the Historic District of Savannah. Carolina George had played downtown along River Street enough times in this small city that everything felt familiar.
Homes that hailed from more than a century before. Grand and pretentious.
Spindly age-old oaks grew up on each side of the narrow roads, and flares of sunlight struck down through the breaks in the leaves, the moss-covered branches stretched overhead like passages that led into a brand-new world.
A place removed.
Another time.
Like you’d stepped back into a different era and no one even noticed you were there.
Whimsical and quaint and ripe with history.
Unease shivered through my senses.
Could almost hear the ghosts howling, haunting the streets, flitting through the highest branches of the trees as they searched for what had been lost.
Somethin’ eerie all mixed up with a vibe that billowed peace.
I itched, knee bouncing out of control, my fingers drumming my thigh even faster. Trying to calm myself the fuck down, but unable to stop the anxiety that was crawling over me like a bad dream.
A bad omen.
Got the premonition that I was driving toward destruction, and I didn’t have a clue why. All except for the fact I’d always known Los Angeles would one day catch up to me. I could almost sense it now, right there, hunting, so close I was only a single misstep from it taking me down.
Wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to let that happen.
Not until retribution had been paid.
Revenge had been served.
I had to keep it together, bide my time until time had come to fruition.
“I’m serious about this shit, Banger,” Rhys said through a rough chuckle. I could almost see him flexing his ridiculous biceps from across the line, like the brawny motherfucker actually thought he could kick my ass. “Would give my left nut for us to get that contract signed. Em’s thrown enough wrenches in the deal. Last thing we need is you givin’ it a good twist.”
“You have so little faith in me?” I asked.
He huffed, and I could hear the heels of his cowboy boots thudding onto the top of a table as he undoubtedly rocked back in a chair. Boy was about as southern as they came. A bull in a china shop. Always ready to jump into the saddle.
“Opposite, man. Opposite. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t even have let you get on that plane to Los Angeles in the first place. I mean, shit, them wining and dining you with a goddamn private jet? That is some fancy-pants shit, bro. Now you’re going to be chilling at the Lyrik West’s Savannah pad—which I’d bet my left nut is probs as ritzy as his place in the Hills—for two months? For free? Plus all that dough? All for the sake of you laying down a few drum tracks on their next album? Sounds fishy. Smells fishy, too.”
A dark chuckle filtered free. “You think I’m so good they would want to poach me? And you can’t bet your left nut. You already promised it to get the band signed.”
Rhys cracked up. “Balls are big enough to bet on ’em a few times. Plenty enough reserve to go around.”
“You wish, asshole,” I told him, chuckling under my breath.
The guy was cocky to the core.
Arrogance inbred.