Torn: Chapter 1

‘We want you to be her Godfather,’ Asher says as he gently lays his newborn baby into my arms. I have to tear my gaze away from her spellbinding eyes to look up at him from the chair I’m cradling the baby in.

‘Me?’ I repeat, glancing over at Ember in the hospital bed, who beams back at me with a tired, yet genuine smile.

‘Yes, you,’ they both say at the same time. ‘If it wasn’t for you, we probably never would have met,’ Ember adds, grabbing Asher’s hand. ‘And we wouldn’t have this beautiful little baby. We know you’ll always protect her.’

‘That’s right, man. You’re Uncle Tor now.’

I’m an uncle. And my two best friends are parents. And we’re all fuckin’ under sixteen.

But Kenzi Allyster Valentine would change us all forever. She needed us.

‘Wow. I’m honored, guys. No doubt, I’ll always be here for her.’

I kick back the pang that hits my stomach. I didn’t get the girl…but I got something better that I never expected. A gift in the form of a little tiny hand wrapped tightly around my finger, huge eyes like gems staring up into mine like I was the most amazing person in the friggin’ world, and the first glimpse of what I could already tell was going to be a heart-stopping smile.

At that moment, a connection was born.

That was it.

She owned me.

My niece.

My goddaughter.

The love of my life.

I hop off the back of the motorcycle and run my fingers through my shoulder-length hair, trying to detangle the mess. The wind is brutal on my hair and turns it into a tumbleweed in less than five minutes of being on the bike. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me against him and plants a dry kiss on my lips that tastes like dirt from the road.

‘Kenzi!’ A deep male voice bellows from the top of my driveway, making us both jump. ‘If I see your ass on the back of that bike again, we’re gonna have some fuckin’ issues.’

Jason quickly pulls away his hands that had inched their way down to my ass. ‘Holy shit, is that your father?’ he asks under his breath.

I let out a sigh and shake my head. My father is not one to raise his voice. Unless he’s singing on stage, of course. But never out in the driveway. And never at me. ‘No, it’s just my uncle.’

Jason squints at Toren before his eyes dart back to mine. ‘Isn’t that the guy who owns the motorcycle place in town? I think I bought my bike from him.’

‘Yeah…we’re not really related, though. He’s my dad’s best friend.’

Tor is coming farther down the driveway toward us, his black leather boots thumping heavily along the stone, his eyes riveted on the boy that just had his hands on me. ‘You hear me?’ he points a finger at Jason, his inked arm muscles bulging menacingly. ‘I don’t want her on that fuckin’ bike again.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Jason calls back, visibly paling.

‘I better go inside before he starts foaming at the mouth,’ I throw my purse strap over my shoulder. ‘Have fun tonight at the party.’

‘You could come to the party with me.’ The teasing glint in his eye and his slightly raised eyebrow hints at more than just a party, and while I should be jumping up and down at the chance since he’s one of the hottest guys in my class, he seemed way more interesting from afar. Before he proved he can’t kiss and has zero conversation skills. I’d much rather stay home and read a book or hang out with my father’s friends who are coming over tonight for a bonfire.

‘I really can’t, Jase. I’m sorry.’ Not sorry. ‘I’ll call you.’

Before Jason has a chance to reply I head up the long cobblestone driveway, glaring daggers at Toren as I walk by him.

‘Hey, listen to me,’ he turns and catches up to me as Jason speeds off down the street. ‘That kid just got his motorcycle license. You don’t get on a bike with someone who barely knows how to ride. He’s way too squirrely. You could get killed. You can ride with me or your dad or your uncles, but not some fucking kid.’

‘I was only on it for like six miles to get home from school. Stop yelling at me. You’re not my father,’ I throw back.

‘I’m close enough. I mean it, stay off that bike.’

‘Fine, Uncle Tor. Don’t get all rabid.’

‘I’m not even close to rabid. Yet.’ He rushes ahead as we approach the house and climb the stairs of the back deck to open the french doors for me that lead into the kitchen. Inside, bags of groceries are lined up on the granite-topped center island. Twice a month my father likes to have his friends and the members of his band over to hang out in the back yard, eat, have a few drinks, take a dip in the pool, and jam a little. Toren usually brings over the food and alcohol and sets everything up.

I should help him put the food away, but I’m not in the best of moods. I just want to be alone so I disappear down the hall and up the stairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. After kicking off my shoes, I collapse onto the bed and stare up at the vaulted ceiling. Just one more month ’til my high school graduation and then I can get away from the drama, fake friends, drunken parties, and groping boys who don’t know how to kiss.

What will I do then? Not a freakin’ clue. I just know I want to get away from school and the people in it.

I don’t fit in with them. I never have. My parents were only fifteen years old when they had me. Still in high school themselves, attending the very same school I’m graduating from, in fact. Some of my teachers were also their teachers, and of course, the entire faculty knows this. It’s a bit bizarre to think that my mother was pregnant with me, sitting in the same exact classrooms I sit in now. Maybe that’s why I’m so smart – I was in high school in utero.

I was born into a family of rather famous people. My grandfather is a popular singer and songwriter from the seventies, and my grandmother is a best-selling romance author who has written over one hundred books, twenty of them turned into television movies. My parents started a rock band when they were seventeen, and both went on to become well-known musicians. My father’s band, Ashes & Embers, now consists of his three brothers and two cousins. I grew up right in the middle of all of this; by the time I was ten years old, I was certainly no stranger to tour buses, loud concerts, drugs, and drama. But despite all that, I was loved and adored. I was everyone’s baby, really. Everyone took care of me. I wasn’t hidden from much that went on, and that wasn’t because my parents were negligent or irresponsible. They just wanted me to be a part of everything they were doing. They exposed me to things in life way before I could truly understand them, but in time it all caught up and sunk in. I think that made me older and wiser earlier than I should be, which has made me feel out of step with everyone else my age.

It didn’t take me long to figure out there were people who only wanted to be around me because of who I was related to. Kids pretended to be my friend to get concert tickets, t-shirts, an autograph, or to try to see the inside of our house – which might be big and have a small recording studio downstairs, but there’s nothing overly exciting going on here. Boys pretended to like me to get me to slip demo tapes to my father, or to meet the sexy women of my mom’s band, Sugar Kiss. And the high school girls hoped they could meet my hot rock star uncles, or even worse, my dad. I never know who I can trust, or who wants to be friends with me just for me. So other than spending time with my best friend Chloe and my Dad’s younger sister, Rayne, I mostly stay home and hang out with my family, the band, and their friends. They’re the only ones I feel comfortable with.

My pocket vibrates and I pull out my phone to read a text message.

Chloe: Jason said you’re not coming tonight?

Me: No, I’m not in the mood for a party.

Chloe: Come on! It’s Friday night! 🙂 Jason really likes you.

Me: Eh…

Chloe: Don’t mess this up! You can totally lose your V-card with him! He’s hot as fark!

I don’t know what the heck fark is and why Chloe can’t just text the word fuck. But whatever. I accept her because I love her. We initially attached ourselves to each other in third grade, when she was dropped off on the first day of school by her two moms and I was dropped off by my father who was already covered in tattoos and had hair almost to his waist. And he still does. Chloe and I bonded in our mutual outsiderness while the other kids avoided us like we were circus freaks.

Me: Stop with the V-card. You’re obsessed.

Chloe: Fine. Come to the party. I’ll be there. It will be fun. You can’t sit home all the time.

Me: I’m really not into it tonight.

Chloe: Every single girl at the party is going to try to hookup with Jason

Me: We’ve only been seeing each other for two weeks. I don’t care what or who he does.

Chloe: You should and you will! I’ll text you later. Love ya, girl!

Me: Love ya 2

I have zero interest in joining the race to lose my virginity before graduation and I definitely don’t want to be a notch on some guy’s belt before he goes off to college, either. So far, Jason’s kisses haven’t made me feel any feels. For now, I’m happy enough living through the romance books my Grandmother sends to my e-reader, but it’s pretty sad that the kisses in the books are way more exciting than the ones in real life. At least for me.

Music, laughter, and voices rouse me from the nap I slipped into after I texted with Chloe – almost four hours ago. I’m surprised my father didn’t wake me when he came out of the studio, but I guess he’s finally learning to respect my closed door.

Sitting up, I glance at my phone and see I have another text message that came through an hour ago.

Jason: I’m at the party. Want me to come get you? In the car, of course. 😉 It’ll be fun.

I type a quick reply:

Me: Thanks but I’m good. Kinda tired tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Jason: ;-( K. You better call 😉

I’m not sure why I’m going out of my way to avoid him and can’t just attempt to have fun with him. He’s cute and mostly nice. He’s popular. Everyone likes him. I don’t think he’s using me for concert tickets, which is a big plus. Whether he’s trying to make me a notch or really likes me is still a mystery to me. His kisses are hella boring, but he could get better at that in time I suppose. Maybe he’s just nervous?

Or maybe it’s me.

After slipping my sneakers on, I head downstairs, through the kitchen and out the french doors to the back deck leading to our back yard. The sun has set, but the yard is lit up with various lights hidden in the landscaping, scattered tiki torches, the fire pit that’s blazing, and the cool blue glow from the in-ground pool.

It’s no secret my father has a lot of money because his band is super successful, and it’s well deserved. I’ve never once been embarrassed by my father or how he acts on stage. He doesn’t drink, do drugs, or screw around. My uncles in the band have had their moments of crazy over the years, but not my Dad. He’s all business.

Am I spoiled? Not really. My father won’t even buy me a car until after I graduate – if I maintain my good grades until graduation and work to pay for my own gas and insurance. I have a gold card with a limit that would probably allow me to buy a small island, but I don’t abuse it. I respect my dad and the trust he puts in me to not go mental at the mall and buy five thousand dollars’ worth of makeup and shoes. I believe trust is a gift from someone, just like love is. Trusting and loving someone says I have faith in you. And I appreciate the depth of that way more than I do material things. I’ll take faith over shoes any day of the week.

There are about twenty people mingling around our yard – some by the bonfire, others at the tables on the deck, some sitting over in the gazebo playing acoustic instruments and singing. I find my dad standing at the monstrous grill built into the stone patio, turning steaks and hamburgers over.

‘Hey, kiddo, you hungry?’ he asks when he sees me.

‘Nah, maybe later.’

‘There’s salad.’ He gestures over to the table where assorted fruits and salads are spread out in serving bowls.

‘I’ll grab some later. I’m not really hungry.’

He blinks at me for a few seconds. ‘You feel okay?’ His face takes on that I have no idea what to do with a female teenager who might not feel good or might be in a mood expression.

Smiling, I touch his arm and lean close to kiss his cheek. ‘I’m fine, Daddy. I had ice cream on the way home from school.’

He backs away from the heat of the grill and pushes his long wavy brown hair out of his face. ‘With that kid, Jason? On a motorcycle?’

Damn Toren and his big mouth. ‘Yeah. It was just from school, though. It’s not that far. And what the hell? Tor has to tell you every thing I do?’

‘No, only the dumb things,’ he grins at me. ‘He’s right, though. Stay off the bike. We don’t want anything to happen to you.’

We. I’m being raised by everyone and no one.

My Dad’s not with Toren. He’s one million percent committed and in love with his wife. My mother – his teen sweetheart. But she’s gone now, and my father is a thirty-two-year-old rock star with a seventeen-year-old daughter trying to act like he’s not broken and lost and on the verge of losing the very definition of his shit. But I know better. He’s afraid something’s going to happen to me too. That I’ll be here one moment and gone the next. And I don’t blame him for feeling that way at all because I feel it, too.

Once you’ve lost someone you love with no explanation, no closure, no end – you’re stuck in a torturous limbo. You don’t know if you should hang on to that ray of hope that they might come back or give in to your grief and accept that they’re gone. So you teeter between both until you slowly go insane.

I let out a breath. I can’t think or talk about my mom much without having a meltdown myself, so I put myself in denial and don’t face any of it. She’s just away. Like a long vacation with no cell phone access. It’s easier that way.

‘Okay. No more bikes, Dad. I promise.’ I don’t mind calming his over-protectiveness because he doesn’t deserve to have any more stress in his life.

His broad shoulders relax again and he gives me a smile that lights up his face and softens his eyes. It’s the smile that’s reserved for me and my mother, and it makes my heart melt. My father is an incredibly beautiful man, possessing the kind of good looks where women will actually stop and stare at him, eyes wide, mouth parted, heart pitter-pattering. Some even ask to touch his long hair, or his tattooed arms, while others just want him to look at them so they can catch a glimpse of his soulful eyes. You don’t just see his beauty, you can feel it, like a warm breeze that caresses your soul. At least that’s how a journalist described him after doing an interview with him.

I fill a small dish with fruit to make him happy and then spy Tor sitting on the edge of the pool by himself. I cross the yard, stopping at one of the coolers to grab a beer on the way. One of the guitarists from another local band is sitting on a lawn chair right next to the cooler. Probably so he doesn’t have to get up to get another drink. So lazy.

‘What’s up, Finn?’ I shake the ice off the bottle.

He tips his drink at me in reply. ‘Kensington.’

‘Are you guarding the beer?’ I tease.

‘I might be. You’re not drinking that, are ya?’ he eyes me suspiciously. ‘Last time I checked you weren’t twenty-one, little girl.’

‘No, it’s for Toren.’

A smirk crosses his lips. ‘Well, if you’re playing waitress, I’ll take a steak, rare, with some fries.’

‘Nice try, Finn.’

He laughs and throws a potato chip at me as I walk away.

Toren is still sitting on the ground staring into the pool when I sit next to him, tucking my legs beneath me. The pool is heated, but no one’s gone in yet. It’s still early spring, so the air is a bit too cold for most people to want to swim. A few stray leaves are floating along the surface, and I like how peaceful they look, not going under the water, and not blowing away either. Just floating, weightless and effortless. I want to be a leaf.

I hand Tor the cold bottle and he takes it from me, using his keychain to pop the cap off.

‘I thought you were mad at me.’ He takes a long drink before glancing sideways at me. I can see why Jason was scared of him; on the outside, Tor looks like a badass. He’s a beast of a man, not an ounce of fat on him, broad and hard as a rock with ink covering both arms from neck to knuckle. Wavy brown hair falls to the tops of his shoulders. It’s usually tied back in a short ponytail to keep it out of his face when he’s working and from tangling up when he’s riding. He notoriously wears dark sunglasses to shade his even darker eyes, and his ride of choice is an old custom Harley that roars down the road so loud that you can barely hear yourself think if he’s near. But on the inside, he’s quiet. Thoughtful. Amazingly caring and giving. Unlike my Dad, he’s good looking in a rugged, almost scary way. Chloe has nicknamed him the walking orgasm. I think she’s way too fixated on sex lately.

I put my bowl of fruit off to the side. ‘You know me better than that.’

‘I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of your boyfriend.’

He passes the bottle to me and I take a sip. I don’t like the taste of beer at all but I take sips every now and then, thinking maybe someday that will change and I’ll enjoy it like everyone else. Nope. Still tastes gross.

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Really? You were pretty excited about him a few weeks ago. I distinctly remember a bunch of squealing and a happy dance when he asked you out.’

Sighing with slight embarrassment over that colorful flashback, I hand the beer back to him, our fingers touching against the cold, damp bottle. ‘I was, until I got to know him. There’s nothing there. I don’t feel anything. There’s nothing interesting about him. He’s just…blah.’ I feign a shudder.

He laughs and shakes his head. ‘That shit must be contagious then. That’s exactly what Lisa said to me a few days ago.’

‘You guys broke up?’

‘We weren’t really together, Kenz. Just kinda seeing where it was gonna go. Testing the waters.’

I pick a big, juicy strawberry off my plate and bite it in half. ‘What did she say?’

He looks up at the sky for a moment before answering. ‘Well, let’s see. She had a whole list, actually. She said I don’t give enough. I don’t communicate enough. I’m too cold and closed off. I’m too quiet. I work too much. I don’t smile enough. I don’t dress nice enough.’ He shrugs. ‘I’ve heard it all before.’

‘You’re not cold, Uncle Tor. Not at all. You’re just not the type to talk for the sake of talking. You talk when you have something to say. And maybe she’s just mad because you’re not saying what she wants to hear.’

‘Apparently I never have much to say, and it’s never what they want to hear. She said pretty much the same things to me,’ he raises his chin and nods across the yard, his eyes zeroing in on Sydni, who’s talking to my dad, her long fire-engine-red hair cascading down her back like a mermaid. Aunt Sydni is the bass player in my mom’s band, and is my mom’s best friend. She’s also been Toren’s on-again-off-again girlfriend for the past twelve years or so. Mostly off.

But lately, I see her as the woman who’s in love with my dad, and she isn’t very good at hiding it.

Yes, welcome to the soap opera that is my life.

‘Sydni said that too?’ I ask.

‘Sydni’s said a lot of things over the years, but we both know what it all comes down to. I’m not him. I don’t smile like him, I don’t talk like him, I don’t make her laugh like him, I’m not rich like him. I’ll never be as good as him. Blah, blah, blah. To her I’m just a dirty mechanic who chases animals around.’ He gulps down his beer and I wish I hadn’t given it to him.

‘He doesn’t want her, Uncle Tor,’ I say softly, trying to diffuse him. ‘He has zero interest in her other than as a friend.’

‘I know that. Fuck, everyone knows that. But it doesn’t change how she feels.’

‘Maybe you two can work it out? It’s been a few months since you broke up, maybe she feels different now. Sometimes you hafta lose something to appreciate it, ya know? She knows you were seeing Lisa. Maybe that made her open her eyes a little. Jealousy can be a great motivator.’

A grin spreads across his face. ‘You’re pretty smart, Kenz. But that ship has sailed and sunk. I don’t want someone who’s in love with someone else. Fuck that.’

Agreed. ‘I don’t blame you. You deserve way better than that. She’s stupid.’

It’s hard to love so many people, want to see them happy, but also not like them for the things they do. My mom would be disappointed in Sydni for chasing after my dad and for making Tor feel like he’s not good enough. I want to see my dad happy again, and while I admire him for staying committed to my mom, I wonder how long he’ll torture himself by not letting himself move on. I don’t want him to move on with Sydni, though. Not because I don’t like her, I do. But because it’s just too twisted. She’s his wife’s best friend and his best friend’s ex.

I live in a deep, dark, perplexing sea of people. Some might be starfish, and some might be sharks. I just bob along on my little raft; watching and learning.

Rubbing my bare arms, I pull my knees up to my chest and watch as my father walks away from Sydni and takes his acoustic guitar to the gazebo to join the others playing some old rock songs. She doesn’t follow him. Good.

‘You cold?’

‘A little,’ I answer. ‘Just when the breeze blows it’s kinda chilly.’

He pulls off the gray hoodie he’s wearing over his t-shirt and hands it to me. ‘Here, put this on.’

I hesitate before accepting. ‘Then you’ll be cold.’

He frowns, like he’s too cool to feel the chill. ‘I’m fine. Put it on.’

Taking it from him, I slip it over my head, and shiver, but not from the cold. The heat from his body is still in the fabric of the sweatshirt, and it warms me like a hug. I push my hands through the sleeves that are way too long for me and roll up the cuffs.

‘It’s huge. But thank you.’

‘You look cute. Keep it. Add it to your growing collection.’

Laughing, I lean against his shoulder and he rests his head against mine for a few seconds before pulling away to finish off his beer.

I’ve been hoarding Tor’s things since I was a little girl. Mostly shirts, mugs, his old lighters, his faded denim jacket he wore in high school, a switchblade, some baseball caps, a leather belt, and other random stuff. I’ve taken all sorts of odd things that I fixated on and wanted to have, just because they were his. And he always let me have them.

He’s been collecting parts of me, too. I just didn’t know it yet.