Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
A Shady Hills man is dead after being struck with a baseball bat, allegedly by his girlfriend’s eighteen-year-old daughter. According to police, Emily Applewood arrived home Wednesday night to find fifty-four-year-old Henry Acadia choking his girlfriend, Terry Applewood. According to Applewood’s attorney, Frank Simmons, Applewood pleaded with Acadia to let her mother go. When the deceased continued to attack the elder Applewood, her daughter reportedly used her brother’s baseball bat to hit Acadia from behind. According to the medical examiner, Acadia suffered an injury to the occipital-atlas region, which caused him to lose consciousness almost immediately. The injury was fatal. Given Acadia’s documented history of domestic violence, police have not brought charges against Applewood and are ruling the incident as accidental.
That was it.
Damn.
A life-changing trauma, reduced to a simple paragraph. In the days after it happened, the news media likely moved on to something else, but for Emily, the horror of that night would continue forever, haunting her. Life was so damn unfair.
I should’ve stopped there, but I scrolled through the other hits on Emily’s name, including her social media pages.
There was nothing recent. Her newest post was from about a year ago. She was smiling in the photo, her eyes holding a certain light that seemed lost now. A guy had his arm around her. I couldn’t make out his face because he was wearing a hood and kissing her cheek. My chest tightened as I looked at the caption: I’ll miss you forever.
CHAPTER 5
EMILY
A week later, we had our biggest, sold-out show yet in Detroit.
I’d learned that one of my favorite parts of the tour were the moments I could stand backstage and enjoy the performance for a bit, ignoring the controlled chaos around me. The moment the lights dimmed in a packed venue, I always got chills. Then came the roar of the crowd as the band emerged, followed by more hysteria as Tristan belted out the first notes. And the audience would go from excited to captivated as the show got underway. Hands waving, bodies swaying, the crowd joined in singing whenever Tristan pointed the mic their way.
After hearing the band’s music over and over, I could understand why so many people loved them. I often had the songs stuck in my head for the rest of the night. And it wasn’t just Tristan who shined. The chemistry between him, Atticus, and Ronan was palpable. They’d look at each other and smile in the middle of a performance, as if sharing silent messages only they understood.
For some reason, tonight Tristan had sounded a bit different to me, like the notes weren’t coming as smoothly as he sang. It wasn’t obvious, and at first I’d thought it was my imagination. But the more I paid attention, the more I noticed it.
I was back from the arena now and on the bus, using the bathroom after a long day. We’d have a few more hours here before we hit the road for the next city. Our departure time had been delayed so the band could explore downtown Detroit. But none of that for me. As I washed my face, I continued to ruminate. I still couldn’t believe I’d told Tristan about my past the other night. What was I thinking? His eyes had made me want to open up. They were mysterious yet somehow familiar, comforting, and nonjudgmental.
My plans to get into my pajamas were thwarted by a text from Stephen. Tristan needs lozenges. Apparently, the other members of the band had gone downtown, with security in tow, but Tristan had stayed behind. Besides that night a week ago when we’d talked in his hotel room, I’d only encountered Tristan in passing. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for another moment alone with him. Even if that was crazy.
Often, late at night, I’d watch from across the lot as various girls disappeared into the band’s bus. God knew what was happening in there. I could only imagine how many women Tristan and the guys had been with since they’d become famous. Even if he denied having a different girl with him every night, it must’ve been a hell of a lot of ladies.
I put my jacket on and used the rental car to go to the drugstore for Tristan’s lozenges. Stephen hadn’t specified what kind to get, so I grabbed a couple of different brands.
After returning, I walked over to the band’s bus and entered, expecting at least a few people in the main cabin. But it seemed virtually empty.
“Hello?” I called.
“Hey…” A low, gravelly voice came from the back of the bus.
Tristan emerged from the back bedroom, looking painfully sexy in ripped jeans and a T-shirt that seemed practically painted on his muscular chest.
Clearing my throat, I looked around. “Everybody’s out, huh?”
“Up to no good somewhere probably, yeah…” He walked down the aisle toward me, and my heart beat a bit faster with each step.