Epilogue
Zara
THREE MONTHS LATER…
“Zara! We’re going to be late!” Hendrix hollers from the kitchen.
I let out an amused laugh. “It’s a Halloween party at your family’s bar. I don’t think it’s possible for us to be late.”
I check myself out one last time in the floor-length mirror and grin. He’s going to lose his shit when he sees the costume I picked out. Turning on my heels, I flick off the lights and exit our master bedroom and head toward the kitchen.
We’ve been back from tour for about a month, and we’ve been officially living together just as long. As soon as our plane touched down in LA, I was already packing my stuff at my sister’s place and hauling it over to Hendrix’s.
I’d like to say my sister was sad over me leaving, but she wasn’t. She values her freedom and her apartment. Plus, she’s just so damn happy I’m not with Tanner anymore.
That makes two of us.
I look at the photos we’ve added to the hallway since we got home: pictures of the guys on stage and playing together in Asher’s hotel suite, a candid shot of Hen’s sisters and me, and one of the two of us with my parents.
I’m amazed at how quickly we turned Hendrix’s house into a home for the two of us in such a short time. I spent years with Tanner in that cold, sterile house his parents bought us, and it never once felt like home to me.
I’ve quickly come to realize it’s not the duration, but the quality of time spent together that makes a relationship last.
“Hey, I’m ready—” My voice gets caught in my throat the second I round the corner and see him standing in the kitchen in… “Oh my god. Where did you get that?”
When he turns around, my jaw drops to the floor.
He’s not only wearing a white lab coat, but he’s also dressed from head to toe in scrubs, complete with a stethoscope and a fake badge.
I thought that after marrying and divorcing a doctor, I’d be totally over them.
But it turns out, seeing my incredibly hot boyfriend in scrubs really does it for me.
“Eric got them for me. They’re the real fucking deal. Well, except for the badge.” He waves it in the air next to his face, and that’s when he finally looks up and notices my shoes. Then his eyes lift upward…
“Jesus Christ. Please tell me you’re not dressing up as—”
“A bass player?” I press my lips together, trying to hold back my smile. “Okay, I won’t.”
He scrubs a hand down his face as he takes it all in: the shiny Doc Martens, the fishnet stockings, and the tight black miniskirt. There’s also a shredded white band tee over the black leather bra. That’s my favorite part. I look like a rock star’s wet dream.
“All I need is a bass to hang around my shoulders.”
“Cupid, I love you, but there’s no way you’re taking one of my bass babies to a crowded bar.” Bass babies. This man.
“I know. I’m just messing with you. I wouldn’t want to lug that giant thing around all night anyway. But I wouldn’t mind doing a private photo shoot later.”
“Fuck me. How about we just not go?” he suggests, his voice dropping low. “We could just stay in, maybe play a nice game of doctor. I think you’re in need of a checkup.”
I laugh and then squeal as he reaches for me. I dash toward the door. He quickly catches up and, within seconds, has me pressed against it, caged between his large hands. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
He shrugs with an amused grin. “Seems only fair since I’ve been to the doctor so much lately.
” My heart skips a beat at how at ease he is with his diagnosis now.
His acceptance has not been a straight line.
These things never are. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions, filled with grief, regret, and sometimes even anger.
There were days when I could see him drowning in doubt, especially after he messed up during a show. Once, after a particularly bad performance, he even tried to convince Asher to let him go, but the guys are firm in their decision.
Family is family, and they will support both their bass players through whatever life throws at them.
To say the internet went wild with that announcement is an understatement. Two bass players? It was unheard of. But when they discovered the reason, they rallied.
I knew Manic fans were passionate, but I didn’t realize just how intense their support is. The love and encouragement Evans and Hendrix have received have been overwhelmingly positive, and because of this, Evans has been able to stay clean, and Hendrix has been able to continue his treatment.
It’s been an amazing partnership.
But now we’re finished with the tour for a while, and this man has earned his damn rest.
“Movement therapy isn’t the same as a doctor appointment, and you know it.”
“It is, if you do it right.” He waggles his eyebrow suggestively.
I burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”
“About you? Always.”
I paint his cheek with a kiss, thanks to my blood red lipstick, and squeeze his ass. “Come on, Doc. Halloween awaits. And although I doubt we can actually be late, your sister texted me and said she had a surprise.”
“Which one?”
“Which one do you think?”
“Presley,” he mutters. “It’s always Presley.”
HENDRIX
Walking into Creeds feels like coming home, if home were covered in neon lights, and smelled kind of like cheap perfume, beer, and sweat.
But home, nonetheless.
The walls are covered with photos of famous bands that performed here and celebrities who visited. I’ll never forget how Zander used to stare at them when he worked here. I remember asking him if that’s what he wanted to be someday—famous.
I just want the money and freedom to do whatever I want, he said.
Zander didn’t have a lot of either growing up.
My dad used to play a larger role in the bar, but in recent years, he’s stepped back. Now it’s Presley’s baby, and despite Cash’s doubts about the arrangement, my sister is doing a damn good job.
The Halloween bash is one of her best ideas yet. We used to host a big party on St. Patrick’s Day, but the rest of the year, it was business as usual. Presley saw this as an opportunity and has been trying to gradually add events whenever possible.
Creeds’ Creepy Halloween Bash is the most popular of them all, probably because it involves a boatload of alcohol and skimpy costumes. Always a winning combination.
When Zara and I step into the bar, it’s like walking into a brick wall of people. There are bodies everywhere.
And everyone is dressed up as something.
There’s Homer Simpson kissing Poison Ivy in the corner. Captain Marvel and a sexy maid are grinding to the music pumping through the sound system. It’s a total mindfuck, and before I get too caught up in people watching, I hear my name being shouted over the crowd.
“Hendrix!” I turn to see my sister behind the bar, waving. She’s dressed as a witch—I’m sure it’s the sexy kind, but like hell I’m saying that—and is bopping her head to the music. We usually have a live band, but it’s too crowded and loud tonight.
I hold tight to Zara’s hand, and we make our way to the bar. It’s a short distance, but it seems to take forever. When we finally make it, my sister waves to a few customers. “Make some room. We’ve got a celebrity here!”
“You’re a fucking menace.”
“Love you too,” she says, her blue eyes scanning my costume. She smiles. “Cute. What can I get you?”
“Beer,” I tell her. “Whatever is on tap.”
“You got it. And for you, Zara?” she says, motioning to her. “You look so hot. I love the leather and the makeup.”
“Thank you! Not sure I could have pulled off the winged liner without your help.”
She tips her pointy black hat. She’s in an unusually good mood.
When I talked to her during the tour—the times I was able to get a hold of her, that is—whenever I asked why, she’d change the subject and ask what we were doing or what city we were headed to next.
I’m glad to see she’s doing better, or at least better tonight. “Always happy to help.”
“I’ll have the Pinot Noir. I had that last time we were here, and it was amazing.”
“I picked that out myself. It’s from a winery in Paso Robles. It’s beautiful up there. You two should spend a weekend up there sometime.”
“Maybe in the spring, but right now, I think we just want to stay home for a while. Zara is taking some time off, and I just want to sleep for like a year straight.”
“Right.” She rolls her eyes. “It must be so hard to travel all over Europe. How did you ever survive?”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “It was a hardship, I tell ya.”
It was actually a fucking dream, but I don’t tell her that.
Zara and I walked the streets of Rome and London. We toured castles and kissed at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was magical.
She’s magical.
“Jerk.” She laughs before walking away for a moment to grab a wine glass and the Pinot Zara requested. She pours it and then slides the glass over.
“This is great, Pres,” I tell her, leaning against the bar as I look out onto the crowd. “You’ve done a really good job with the place.”
She smiles proudly. “I know. Hey, how’s treatment going?”
“Good,” Zara and I say in unison. I can’t help but smile. She’s been so supportive through all this.
When I wanted to give up and quit, she talked me off the ledge.
When I got angry and asked, Why me?, she was my voice of reason.
When I just needed to be held, she never let go.
“Now that the tour is over and my schedule is less intense, I’m going to increase my sessions with my movement specialist.”
“And he’s even started teaching himself how to pluck with his left hand.” Zara beams a proud smile at me. God, I fucking love her.
“Yeah.” I grin. “But it sounds like absolute shit.”
“Clearly, you don’t remember the early days when you started playing,” Pres says. “Sounded like shit back then too.”
“Yeah, I guess it did.” I chuckle. “Are we the only ones here?”
She grabs a pint glass and starts filling it up. “Yeah. Myles is…somewhere. Atlanta, maybe?” She waves a hand. “Anyway, he got a small part in a show. Two lines, but he’s convinced it’s going to take him somewhere.”
Zara takes a sip of her wine and lets out a happy sigh. It’s the same contented sound she makes after she comes, and it leaves me momentarily distracted. I double-blink before turning back to my sister. “Maybe it will.”
It takes all my willpower not to turn back and fixate on Zara’s red lips. Her long neck. That sexy black bra.
How long is long enough before we can go?
“I hope so, ’cause that boy has way too much talent to be wasting it on two lines.”
I clear my throat. “Agreed.”
“What about Mercury?” Zara asks, taking another sip of her wine.
“This isn’t her type of thing,” I answer, as the mention of my baby sister almost instantly douses all my inappropriate thoughts about my girlfriend. “Too loud. Too crowded. She’d rather spend Halloween handing out candy and watching scary movies.”
“And Cash?”
“Cash doesn’t like fun,” Presley says, while I say, “It’s not his thing either.”
She finishes filling my glass, and as she lifts it over the bar, something winks under the glow of the lights.
It catches my eye, and I realize it’s a ring…on my sister’s finger.
It’s not just any ring, though.
It’s a diamond ring on my sister’s left hand.
And right next to it is a slim gold band.
“Presley.” I stare at it like it’s a rattlesnake about to strike. “What the fuck is that?”
She glances down, and I see her expression falter as she sets down my beer. “Oh!” She licks her lips before plastering on a smile. “That’s the surprise I wanted to tell you about. I got married!”
I look to Zara and see the same confused expression on her face. “To who? If you say Jace, I swear to God—”
“Hey, Hendrix.” I hear a deep voice say behind me.
It’s a voice I haven’t heard in years.
Presley swallows nervously and then says, “You remember Hollis, right?”
I turn and yep, there he is. My former best friend.
And he’s wearing a matching gold wedding ring.