Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
After we both take showers, we head downstairs and find Declan sitting at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee.
“We’re going to breakfast,” Kaylee says. “Wanna go?”
Declan shrugs, making Kaylee frown. “Okay, you’re going. I’m not leaving you here to pout.” She grabs his cup and sets it in the sink. “You don’t get to be upset about Kendall when you refuse to tell her how you feel.”
Declan glares. “And risk her stiffing me? Fuck that. This guy will be gone soon enough.” He’s referring to the real reason Kendall wanted to go to the music festival—the guy she’s recently started talking to was playing there.
“And then will you tell her?”she asks.
Declan shrugs.“I don’t know... maybe.”
“Where’s Gage?” She glances around, looking for him.
“Probably in his room.” Declan stands. “I’ll get dressed and then we can go.”
“Drag Gage out too. He shouldn’t be holed up in his room. He’s sinking into a depression.”
Declan’s eyes meet mine because she isn’t wrong. We’ve all noticed him getting worse, but he usually does around the anniversary of Tori’s death—although it doesn’t usually last a damn month—and it doesn’t help that we’re on vacation, giving him too much time on his hands. Hopefully, once we’re back on the road playing, he’ll snap out of it. We only have a few weeks left on tour.
I know it sounds like we’re choosing to play over getting Gage the help he needs, but the guy is stubborn as fuck, and he’ll never stay in rehab if he feels like he’s letting down the band. It’s all he has, all he lives for, and taking that away from him isn’t the way to get him to focus on getting clean.
Once Declan and Gage are ready, we head out. Since we’re in a busy city and Kaylee wants to walk, we have my bodyguard, Justin, with us. He mentioned a while back that he could use the money, so we offer him overtime to join us whenever we’re going somewhere that’s out of his contractual time.
“I read this place has the best Cuban coffee,” Kaylee says, walking up to some hole-in-the-wall place.
“We’re eating here?” Declan says, sounding like a stuck-up prick. The guy has probably eaten pussy dirtier than this place.
“Places like these always have the best food,” Kaylee argues. “Besides, I’d rather give my money to a small business than some chain.”
Without waiting for Declan to reply, she pulls the door open and goes in. If the smell of the place is anything to go by, I’d bet my left nut the food is delicious. We order iced café con leches, a bunch of pastries Kaylee wants to try, and some sandwiches, then we find a picnic table at a park near the beach.
“Damn, this is good,” Declan says, taking a sip of his drink and then stuffing a bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
“Of course it is.” Kaylee mock-glares. “It’s like New York. You have to find the hidden gems. Once I—”
“Braxton? Is that you?”
The feminine voice calling my name has all of us turning our heads. Nobody’s noticed us yet, so if someone did, shit’s about to get crazy. But the way it’s said, it’s not like the fans usually say it. It’s more like she’s unsure, startled.
“Ma’am, I need to ask you to please ...”
Whatever Justin is saying becomes a buzz in my ears as my gaze lands on the person who called my name. She’s several years older than the last time I saw her, than the pictures I’ve seen her in. Crow’s feet line her eyes, but she’s still beautiful with glossy brown hair and bright hazel eyes. Everyone used to say I was my dad’s twin, from our hair to our facial features. Even our body type is similar. But my eyes, they’re not my dad’s... they’re my mom’s. She’s dressed in a flowy floral sundress, her skin a bit red from the sun.
As I take her in, I notice she’s not alone. Standing with her is an older gentleman, a boy who looks to be in his teens, and two girls, identical, several years younger. When my eyes scan over them, trying to figure out what I’m seeing, I land on the boy’s eyes: hazel, like mine... like my mom’s.
“Braxton,” my mom breathes, making me focus back on her. “It’s been so long...”
“Nineteen years.” I was five when she walked away and never looked back.
She winces, almost as if she’s ashamed of how long it’s been. “This is my husband, Scott, and our children. Shane is eighteen, and Julia and Jessica are—”
“Eighteen?” I hiss, cutting her off. “He’s eighteen?” It’s not difficult to do the math in my head. “You said you didn’t want a family, that you weren’t cut out for being a mom. You left!” I bark, making her flinch.