Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I managed to simply nod.
“See you later,” Cam called out to Jeremy, who looked up from his cell phone and waved.
I put my hand on Cam’s back, and he grabbed the handle on his suitcase and rolled it as we walked back to the building’s entrance.
“I’m going to need to hear it all from the beginning, but first, I made you brownies.”
“With icing?” he asked.
“Oh, you wanted icing?”
He paused and looked at me like I was crazy. I managed to keep a serious expression for a few moments, but I cracked and laughed. He grinned.
My boy was home. Life was good again. I would be fine. No more time to think about men … or one man. The summer of the rock star was over. Besides, I might never see him again. There was a good chance he had moved back to Beverly Hills.
When the elevator doors opened and we stepped out into the hallway, Cam paused and let out a low whistle. “Wow. What happened to this place?”
I had forgotten about the fact that he didn’t know about the new paint, lights, hardwoods. When we had talked, we had spoken about his day, not what was going on here.
“You should see the new loungers at the pool,” I told him. “New owner bought the building and fixed things up.”
I left out who that new owner was. That wasn’t something he needed to know. Cam would stalk the place until he saw a glimpse of Dean.
“Who cares about loungers? What about a slide?” he replied.
“No slide. Sorry, kiddo,” I said as I unlocked the door to our apartment.
Before we could go inside, the door to Mrs. Jo’s apartment swung open.
“I thought I heard that familiar voice!” She beamed brightly. “And look at how tall you got!” she added.
Cam cut his gaze at me, and I gave him an I told you so look.
“Hey, Mrs. Jo,” he replied.
“I made you an Oreo pie. You wait right there, and I’ll go get it,” she said.
I didn’t even have to nudge him; he headed in her direction to go get his pie.
“Bet they didn’t have pies like this at music camp!” Mrs. Jo called out from inside her apartment.
“They sure didn’t,” Cam agreed as Mrs. Jo came back to the door and handed him the pie, then patted his cheek.
“So handsome,” she told him. “Now, go give your mama all the attention. She’s missed you something fierce.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “And thank you for the pie.”
She smiled up at him. “Anytime you want one, you know where to go.”
Cam was grinning at me when he walked back to our door. He was taller now, but when he smiled like that, all I saw was the little boy who wanted to hold my hand, follow me around the house while I cleaned, held on to my arm at night while we slept. He didn’t do any of those things anymore. Life was changing every day. But we had each other, and that was what mattered. He couldn’t stay a little boy forever.
seventeen
dean
Kiro was bored. I had expected this from him. When he was bored, we went on tour. Every damn time. Our manager had tried to convince him to wait until next summer, but the best he could do was this winter. Kiro wasn’t waiting a year to get onstage and feel the power that came with fans screaming his name.
Sitting through meetings at our Beverly Hills house with the rest of the band had been tedious. One week had been annoying, but two weeks had been brutal. Kiro and his social life had slowed over the years, but when he was going through shit mentally, he tended to fill the void with people. Mostly women. Lots of them.
Once things were decided and tour stops chosen, Kiro had something to focus on, and I was free to go back to Florida. The only good thing to come of it all was, I’d been busy enough to keep Brielle out of my head. Not entirely, but for the most part.
The August heat was like walking in a sauna. I considered putting on swim trunks and getting in the pool, but then I would be noticed. There was no hiding behind glasses and a hat in the pool. My Slacker Demon tattoo would be a dead giveaway, if nothing else.
Staying inside with the air conditioner was the only way to get relief. Just as I settled on the fact that I’d be alone in my penthouse all day, my phone alerted me of a text. I looked down and saw the general contractor for the renovations to the building was asking me about the dead palm tree on the south end of the property. I wasn’t sure which one he was talking about, so I texted back that I’d meet him there in ten minutes. Then, I stood up and grabbed my hat and glasses before heading to the private exit.