The four of us stood on the parapet just before noon the next day. After showing her our home studio, this was the last stop of the tour we’d given Braxton of the house.
At the moment, we were silently, but not quite patiently, waiting for her to break free from her private thoughts. She was admiring one of the creepy-ass gargoyles, a winged-demon with his mouth gaped open, that we kept instead of swapping them out for modern gutters. We’d decided we wanted to keep the integrity of the architecture as well as the rainwater away.
“Did you know that grotesques were used by the clergy in medieval times to inspire fear in their parishioners?” she inquired casually. Learning what we did about her history, I knew there was nothing casual about her question. “I read they were used to remind the people what awaited them if they were sent to hell.” Shrugging, she bent over the low wall, bracing her forearms on top of the stone barrier as she gazed out at the forest. I didn’t realize I was staring at her ass poked out in those tiny shorts she’d put on for the occasion until she spoke again. “Considering how superstitious everyone was back then, churches had no problem keeping attendance up.”
“Want us to remove them?” Loren offered as casually as Braxton pretended to be. The only difference was that he wasn’t putting on a show. He’d knock this entire house down with a wrecking ball if she asked him too.
Peeking over her shoulder, probably to gauge if he was serious, she laughed and shook her head when she saw that he was. “No.” There was a twinkle in her eye when she turned to face us with her elbows propped on top of the ledge now. “I also read that they ward off evil spirits. I wouldn’t want you boys getting spooked all alone in these woods. Los Angeles is too far away for me to come and check under your beds.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she was gazing off again as her expression fell.
Fuck.
I could tell that it hadn’t dawned on her until now that we lived a thousand miles apart. Eventually, she’d have to go back. Ultimately, we’d have to do without her and try to make an already complicated relationship work long-distance.
The only solution was if she stayed here…with us.
Loren, apparently coming to the same conclusion, brought it up before I, or any of us, could think it over and broach the subject carefully.
“So that’s what your little history lesson was really about,” he teased her. “You want to move in.”
Her eyes bucked as she stood up straight. “What? No, that’s not what I was saying.”
“It’s cool, baby fawn. We’ve got the room.”
She frowned at him before rolling her eyes when she realized that it was him leading her into a trap and not the other way around. “I’m not moving in with you, Loren.”
He frowned deeply, confirming what I already knew. Loren hadn’t been just teasing. “Why not?”
“Because we’ve been dating for two seconds?”
“You plan on going anywhere?” he asked her quietly, his tone curious but his gaze blank.
Braxton’s answer and how carefully she tread would determine how fast this escalated. Rich and I glanced at one another, but for some reason, neither of us felt compelled to step in. He was supposed to be the voice of reason, and whenever that didn’t work, I brought the heavy hand and put my foot down. Loren’s job usually consisted of finessing the situation—whenever he wasn’t causing trouble to begin with.
“There’s no harm in taking it slow, Loren. The tour won’t be over for months. Can’t we just talk about it then?” she reasoned.
Unfortunately, Loren wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. Everything she said had gone in one ear and out the other. “Why put off tomorrow what can be done today?”
Nostrils flaring, there was a fire in Braxton’s eyes as they searched the ground, and I knew from firsthand experience that she was looking for something to throw at his head.
Rich and I both exhaled our relief when we searched the ground as well and saw no rocks lying around.
When it looked like he wasn’t getting his way anytime soon, Loren dug his—our—hole a little deeper. It wouldn’t escape her notice that we didn’t step in, and eventually, she’d figure out why. “Stop pretending you’re not into it too when we all know better,” he snapped.
With a mock gasp, Braxton slapped her palm to her forehead. “How could I forget? Naturally, my gender means I’m perpetually confused and don’t know my own mind. Have mercy, big man. Tell me what I really want.”
Loren threw his head back and made a frustrated sound in his throat. “Are we really going to fight about this again?” he mumbled, referring to her demand to be treated like our equal.
I’m sure we were beyond that now since it started to feel like we worshiped the ground she walked on. Either she couldn’t see that because she was stubborn, or we were still shit at this boyfriend thing.
“No, because I’m done talking to you.”
She started for the door and the steps that led back inside, and Loren was hot on her heels. Though not as closely, Rich and I followed, and I was once again wondering why neither of us was stopping Loren while he was ahead.
I didn’t have to tell him that he could never force Braxton to do something she didn’t want to do. He already knew. The problem was that people don’t just change overnight, and Loren was too used to getting his way.
Even if Braxton did want to move in, I knew she wasn’t sure she could handle that yet. It meant leaving her friends, moving to a strange place, sinking deeper into our web, and abandoning the independence that had taken every ounce of her courage to build in the first place.
“Loren,” I called out, making him glance over his shoulder at me.
I knew the moment he read the look in my eyes and realized what he was doing and how bad he was fucking up. His footsteps reluctantly slowed, but by then, Braxton had reached the room we’d given her last night, and we were still right on her heels.
We already shared a house. Obviously, the three of us had never considered or needed to share a room as well, so we each had our own. Until we could think of a better arrangement, it just made sense to give Braxton her own space while she was here.
Thanks to Loren and his “superior” finessing skills, it was already coming in handy.
I could tell Braxton was still pissed when she turned to face us once she was over the threshold. Even during the longer-than-necessary walk that it took to reach her bedroom since she kept getting lost, she hadn’t cooled down one bit.
None of us got a chance to say a word or maybe even apologize before she pushed the door shut, making the sound reverberate throughout the house, and we were left staring at the wood we’d painted black.
“Damn,” Loren mumbled after he’d turned to face us. “She’s been here less than a day, and we’re already getting doors slammed in our faces.”
There was a loud thump on Braxton’s door that came from the inside, telling us that she’d heard him, and I sighed. It was only noon, and I was weary.
“If I don’t get laid tonight, I’m making you suck my dick,” Rich spat as he turned and walked away.
Loren snorted but didn’t say more about it before he went off in a different direction.
I stared at Braxton’s door for a moment, but when nothing smart came to mind that would get us back in her good graces, I decided to leave it alone.
For now.
We were sitting in our practice room, attempting to piece together a new song, when she ambled in after spending the last twenty-four hours hiding in her room.
“Oh, shit,” Loren whispered once he noticed her. Braxton, wearing a blue spaghetti-strapped dress that only reached her thighs and her hair pinned in a ponytail at her crown, wandered the far edge of the room. She looked over our awards and photos hanging on the red wall as if she hadn’t seen them already. “No one make any sudden movements. We don’t want to scare her off.”
Braxton’s head swiveled toward us at that exact moment, and…those two idiots actually froze.
She gave them an exasperated look before her curious gaze met mine. I nodded my head to the empty seat on the leather sofa next to me since Loren and Rich occupied the armchairs on the other side of the black trunk we used as a table.
After only a moment’s hesitation, which I still didn’t care for, she came.
I’d texted her an hour ago to let her know where we were and what we were up to, hoping she’d come. I had just begun to fear we’d lose another day when she showed up.
It wasn’t until she dropped down onto the sofa, and I got a whiff of her brown sugar body wash and saw that her red hair was still damp, that I realized what had held her up. It was still early in the afternoon, so I figured she must have just woken up.
The only time I got her out of bed before noon was when Rich or I coaxed her out of it since Loren was no better. He was worse, actually. Today was the exception, and I had the feeling he’d woken up early in the hopes of catching her roaming instead of knocking on her door and apologizing.
She felt his stare even now and ignored him. Loren was burning a hole in the side of her face, but Braxton kept her gaze steadfast on her purple nails that my back knew were as sharp as they looked, along with the ten silver rings adorning the index, middle, and ring finger of her left hand.
Deciding to break the silence, I handed over the notepad with the current version of one of our new songs scratched onto the paper.
“What do you think?” I asked, watching her closely after she finally took it from me. My heart was pounding as Braxton read over the lyrics, and I didn’t have to question why. It seemed like it took an eternity for her to be done even though less than a minute had passed.
“I think finding a melody is going to be tricky.”
Damn it.
She’d chosen her tone and expression carefully so that I couldn’t tell what she was really thinking. The only evidence that she was feeling anything at all were the subtle cues she gave, like the slight wrinkling of her nose and purse of her lips as if she tasted or smelled something unexpected.
Nodding, I picked up the acoustic next to me, and her brows shot up when I held it out to her. “Would you prefer a keyboard?”
She continued to gape. “You want me to write the melody?”
“No, this is a guitar, and that’s my song in your lap,” I answered sarcastically. “I thought we’d knit.”
Lifting the notepad, it slapped my chest when she tossed it at me as she stood. Jericho caught her, which I’m sure was more of an excuse to touch her after so long than as a favor to me, and kept her from leaving.
“He’s sorry, I’m sorry, we’re all sorry,” he told her sincerely when she was seated next to me again.
Refusing to look at him, she flipped him off, surprising everyone in the room except Braxton. She’d never given him more than her silence, which rarely lasted long when she was upset with him. Loren and I usually bore the brunt of her wrath.
Jericho tried to nix it off, only to end up looking like his dog died. I refrained from laughing since Braxton would no doubt assume it was directed at her.
“I’ll create the melody,” I pretended to concede after picking up the fallen notepad.
I could see in her eyes that she wanted to do it, possibly since the moment she read the first line, but she was too stubborn to let go of her pride. I was starting to wonder if she’d picked up that trait from her conservative upbringing or if she came by it honestly.
Handing her the notepad again, I hid my surprise when she took it. “Sing it how you think it should sound,” I requested when she just stared at me.
Braxton had a powerful voice, and even though I should be used to it by now, I was always eager to hear it again.
I waited patiently as she silently read over it again, creating a natural rhythm for the verses, chorus, and bridge in her mind before she began. I listened, hopelessly enthralled, as she tried it a second and third time out loud. She shifted her tone and pitch, speeding up and slowing down her pace when needed until it flowed like water from her lips.
“That was good,” I praised as casually as I could manage. Clearing my throat, I lifted the guitar. “Let’s try that again. I’ll do backup.”
She did without argument, singing much slower this time as I tried to find the right chords to match the rhythm she set. We ran through it numerous times until it started to feel cohesive.
“Again,” I said the moment we finished our fourth attempt. It almost sounded like a plea. They might have been my words, but the song was always meant for her voice. Braxton didn’t hesitate before launching into the song I’d crafted from her pain.
Walking alone in this lonely existence
How much longer can I hide what I feel
There’s a wolf in the midst of pious sheep
It rages, can anyone hear me
(Give in to me)
It seems no one understands
No one else but you
You’re the vengeance that builds in silence
I’m the demon you wait to free
I can’t stop these imminent changes
You send a broken servant; sacrificed, he kneels
Looking into dead eyes, I come alive
Fucked and forsaken, I’m cast aside
(Just give in to me)
Don’t let this thing wither
Let my blood run wild
Set the flame and feel it burn
I hear you calling
(Give in to me)
It seems no one understands
No one else but you
You’re the vengeance that builds in silence
I’m the demon you wait to free
Just as Braxton was reaching the bridge that led to the fourth verse and the final chorus, Loren’s phone started to ring from where it sat on the table. Neither of us stopped. From my peripheral, however, I saw Loren lean over to check it.
I never questioned or understood how I’d become so attuned to my best friends that I could feel their emotions as if they were my own.
My fingers stopped playing.
Only one person inspired the measure of anger and apprehension I felt rippling off Loren in waves.
Braxton waited for me to tell her why I had stopped, but my focus was on Loren, who was lifting his phone from the table.
“Don’t answer that,” I snapped.
I never even considered if I had the right to come between a father and son. Loren gave me a lazy look like he was bored, but I knew better. He cared about his father calling. And he hated my attempt to strong-arm him into doing what he already knew was best—for everyone.
I didn’t know why Orson chose now to reach out, but it couldn’t have been because he cared. However, Loren’s lack of surprise and the tension radiating off him made me wonder if this wasn’t the first time.
It’s been six years to my recollection.
What had I missed?
“He’s my father,” Loren retorted as if that made a difference.
“Then explain why you’ve only had Rich and me for the past six years?”
“Fuck you, Houston, okay?” He grabbed his phone and stood, making me stand too.
He wasn’t answering that fucking call.
Loren might have forgotten how long it took him to stand on his own feet confidently, but I hadn’t. Five years and he was still waiting for me to apologize for talking them into signing that deal, but I couldn’t.
I just…couldn’t.
As much as I regretted Savant, it wasn’t even close to how much I would have missed my best friend.
I wouldn’t give him up then, and I wouldn’t give him up now.
Holding my gaze, Loren pressed the green button.
The moment he tried to speak, I charged the two steps it took to reach him and packed a lot of power into the fist I drove into his stomach. Loren dropped to one knee, and when his phone hit the ground next to him, I quickly scooped it up.
There was frustration and anger written in the look he gave me as he held his stomach and glared up at me. Braxton and Rich also wore deep frowns, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if they thought I was being a dick. Frankly, what else was new?
“What the fuck is your problem?” Loren barked once he caught the wind I’d knocked out of him.
“Orson James is my problem. He hasn’t changed, and you fucking know it.”
The muscle in Loren’s jaw ticked. Hitting him and taking away the call with his father hadn’t pissed him off nearly as much as his fear that I might be right.
It was more than a possibility, though. It was a fucking fact.
And it was already driving me crazy to think that I might not be there the next time Orson called, and he would. He didn’t give up easily, but neither did I.
Standing, Loren didn’t break my stare. “What the hell makes you think you’re any different?” he spat, calling me out on my shit. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything other than take it because Loren was right. I wasn’t any better than Orson James. “You’re still a controlling piece of shit. Nothing’s changed.”
Bumping me as he passed to leave the room, I almost followed him to…I don’t know. Loren shot a look over his shoulder just before he disappeared that warned me off.
Rich jumped on me as soon as the door was closed. “Seriously, Morrow?”
My gaze shot to Braxton for some reason before I quickly looked away. Shame, maybe? I was acting like a lunatic and couldn’t explain why. “Drop it.”
Braxton silently stood from the couch and slowly walked by me before quietly leaving the room. I had a hunch she was going to check on Loren despite giving him the cold shoulder.
Dropping down into the armchair Loren had vacated and slouching, I leaned my head against the low back and closed my eyes. I’d barely finished exhaling all the air from my lungs and unknotting my fucking stomach before Rich broke the silence.
“I’m meeting with my lawyer tomorrow,” he quietly announced. I kept my eyes closed since I was too exhausted to know where he was going with this. “And then I’m going to tell Braxton about Emily.”
My eyes shot open at that as I lifted my head.
“No shit?” I couldn’t pin a reason on why I frowned when it was immense relief I felt. Perhaps it was because I knew Jericho couldn’t have come to this decision easily. “What made you change your mind?”
Rich was forlorn as he stared at the floor for a while before he finally answered. “It’s starting to feel like I’m in a hole too deep to climb, and I can’t help but hope that I’m wrong. Even if there’s a crumb possibility that Braxton will forgive me, I have to hold on to it with both hands, you know?”
I did know.
Because chances were Rich wouldn’t be the only one getting dumped when Braxton found out about his wife.
“We’ll figure out the rest,” I promised him.
Staring at him a little longer, I blew out a breath when that pitiful look in his eyes became even more palpable. I had an inkling of what had held him up from going around Emily and getting his marriage dissolved.
Silently, I waited for the anger and betrayal that never came.
I couldn’t bring myself to feel those things because I also knew Rich was giving up the only thing he ever wanted but never got. He might have grown into a man and was beloved by millions now, but to me, Jericho was never far from that sad, lonely kid who’d been denied a single, true attachment. Loren and I had been his first and only until even that had been ripped away by distrust, resentment, and greed.
This time around it was Jericho walking away from that chance for the one his heart decided he needed more. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that Braxton was worth it, but it wasn’t my sacrifice. It was Jericho’s.
“Thank you,” I heard myself say to him.
Rich finally looked up from the floor, his gaze shocked by my fervent tone and the sincerity in those two words that made his lips tilt at the corner and his silver eyes kindle. “Fuck off, Houston,” he spat, making me laugh too. “We crossed swords once. Don’t make shit weird.”
