She paused. “Wait, really?”
“Really. I’m visiting my sister. Sort of? It’s a long story. And then I have a… a thing I promised to do for an old friend after that.” I wasnottelling her it was a concert, otherwise she’d show up and accost me in person.
“And then you’ll be home?”
I hesitated.Homewas a funny word, wasn’t it? I supposed my apartment in the city—which was pretty modest by rock star standards, since I was too much my father’s son to ever throw money around—was the place where I got my mail. Did that make it home? Even if I’d spent less than ten weeks a year there since I’d bought it? Even if Aimee had never been there or my friend Oak either?
I supposed it was closer than anything else I’d found. Home was for sure not in Rock Gulch—I hadn’t been back in years. And I didn’t have a home anywhere else either… even if there was one particular place I secretly yearned for.
Or maybe a particular person you yearn for,a voice in my head taunted before I shut it down.A person you’d like to have back in your life.
It was bad enough that I’d been in love with Rafe Goodman since I was fifteen years old. Bad enough that I’d found out firsthand that spending summers without him didn’t dim my feelings for him one iota. Andbeyondbad enough that my entire career had been built on songs I’d written about him—songs I sang, night after night, like squeezing a bruise, which meant my broken heart would likely never heal.
I wasnotgoing to start thinking dumbass thoughts about having him in my life again. No fucking way.
“I’m not really sure what I’m doing after that,” I hedged. “It depends on a lot of things. I’d like to prioritize my family for a while—”
“Oooh. We could talk about that in the interview—”
Jeez. “Goodbye, Debbie,” I said wryly.
“Uh-huh. Next time I call, you’d better answer,” she warned before signing off.
I clasped the phone to my chest and sighed.
What the hell was I supposed to do with myself now? For so long, I’d been focused on taking the next step, and the step after that, I honestly wasn’t sure what to do anymore. I was utterly rudderless for the first time since I was ten and I’d told my dad I wanted to be a musician.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Aimee the way she’d been the last time I saw her, the day she left Rafe. I’d been playing a couple of dates in Tampa at the time and trying to decide whether I could find a way to see her without going down to Whispering Key myself—I hadn’t been back to the island in years at that point, because I couldn’t look at Rafe and see mybrother-in-lawinstead of the guy I’d fantasized about fucking on his dad’s tour boat—when suddenly she’d turned up at my hotel.
She’d looked so tired, her face pinched with anxiety and stress, as she’d breathlessly explained that she’d married Rafe for all the wrong reasons and that she didn’t want to see him again.
And what had I done? Had I offered to talk her through it? Get them counseling to save their marriage?
Fuck no. I’d felt sorry for her, but I’d also felt like some great cosmic error had finally been set right. I’d ordered us a bottle of tequila and promised to give her whatever she needed to move on. Money to relocate, money for a lawyer, money to cover her bills so she wouldn’t have to worry about finances.
Money, money, money.
Looking back, I hadn’t been there for her emotionally. Not even a little. I’d been selfish and immature.
And when Rafe had come looking for Aimee at my hotel suite a few hours later while she was napping, had I listened to his side of the story? Had I tried to help them reconcile?
Once again, that was a big fat no. Instead, I’d had the powerful urge to soak in his handsome face and broad shoulders, to throw my arms around him and beg him to want me instead.
And I’d been so fucking horrified by my own thoughts that I’d lashed out.
It’s your fault Aimee looks so miserable.
I thought I could trust you to take care of her.
You obviously don’t know how to give her what she needs.
She’s none of your business anymore.
She’s better off without you. We both are.
No lie, it had feltgoodin that moment to say those things, even the ones that weren’t true. I’d told myself the pain on Rafe’s face as he’d absorbed my words had been payback for the betrayal I’d felt when I’d found out my best friend had been harboring romantic feelings for my sister and hadn’t bothered to mention them to me until the day he proposed to her.
I’d told myself that Rafe’s right hook to my jaw was the punctuation at the end of our relationship.
