26. Raleigh
Raleigh
26
The private jet touches down in LA, and I pull myself out of the warmth of Dylan’s arms. It was an awkward flight home. After spending the night riding Ezra’s dick, we each went back to our respective hotel rooms and haven’t spoken a word since.
Apparently we have great sexual chemistry, but when it comes to talking . . . zero.
It’s almost ironic how it used to be the other way around. We used to talk until the early hours of the morning while he did everything he could to avoid getting physical with me. Now as adults with our own forms of trauma, talking is the last thing I’m prepared to do.
As I boarded the jet, I was faced with three options—Ezra, Rock, or Dylan.
Ezra looked at me with expectation, as though if I dared to sit down beside him, he was going to ask questions I wasn’t prepared to answer, and in return, I would end up trying to seduce him to avoid having to talk at all. Rock already had his drumsticks in his hands, so sitting down next to him meant probably being used as a drum the whole flight—and I don’t mean the good kind of drum where you’re banged in the bathroom for the duration of the flight. And Dylan, sweet, loveable Dylan. He gave me a goofy smile and looked as though all he wanted to do was sleep.
BINGO!
I sat down beside him while awkwardly avoiding Ezra’s stare, he looped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side, and that’s exactly where I stayed until now. Don’t get me wrong, while I might have been physically comfortable, I was anything but.
I would have killed to spend the flight snuggling with Ezra, to feel his warmth wrap around me, but we’re not there yet, and honestly, I’m not sure if we’ll ever be. There’s too much to unpack, too much heartache and trauma to work through.
Instead, I listened to Dylan gently snoring in my ear as I stared at the three pendants hanging around Ezra’s neck. Axel’s ring, the guitar he got from his mom before I even knew him, and the simple R that shows after all these years, I’m still home to him.
The boys have two weeks off to chill at home before we’re due to get back on a flight and head to Portugal, and until then, I’m lost. Obviously, I’ll spend some time with Madds and probably have to check in with the label, but for the most part, I don’t know where to go. I don’t have a home here, and I don’t particularly want to go running to Lenny and ask for another fancy hotel room.
Hmmmm I wonder how Rock or Dylan would feel about me crashing at their places. Or maybe Madds. She has a small apartment, roughly the size of a shoebox, but I’m sure she’ll be down with it. Just like old times. I can spend my nights choking on the overwhelming scents of her billion and three candles. It’ll be perfect.
Pulling out of Dylan’s hold, I shove my elbow into his side, waking him up. The idiot could sleep through a tornado. “We’re here,” I tell him as he scrunches his nose and drags his hand across his face, making me smile. I can’t wait until he falls in love and finds that one special girl who’s going to change the game for him. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll be the luckiest girl who ever lived. Dylan is a catch. He’s the whole package, and if it weren’t for our brother-sister relationship or the way I whole-heartedly belonged to Ezra, I’m sure as a teen, I probably would have crushed on him.
The thought sends an icy shiver down my spine. I can only imagine what my father would have had to say about that.
Getting to my feet, I grab my coat and go to make my way off the jet, only Ezra stands at the same time, and we awkwardly meet in the middle. His hand immediately comes to my waist, and I feel every eye on us, waiting to see what will happen. “Are you . . . ummmm. Do you know where you’re staying for the next two weeks?”
I force a smile across my face, but it doesn’t reach home, both of us knowing how fake it is. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay, well then, I guess I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Two weeks? Fuck. That suddenly seems like a lifetime, but also, fuck him for not wanting to see me before that. “Yeah,” I say, my fake smile falling away as I press my lips into a hard line. I turn and start making my way off the jet, not wanting to say goodbye. After all, that’s not what we do. Besides, what’s two weeks away from him when I’ve already have eight years of practice under my belt?
My heart aches with every step I take off the jet, and as I reach the tarmac, I don’t dare look back as I find my driver from that first day in LA and beeline straight for him. I feel Ezra’s stare on my back as he follows me out of the jet. Even as my driver holds the door open for me, and I scoot into the back of the car, Ezra’s eyes linger. The driver is quick to get into the car and pull away, and the second he does, I risk it all by glancing out the window and gazing at the other half of my heart.
Ezra stands by his car, leaning against the blacked-out SUV, his gaze locked on me, and despite the dark tint of the windows, I know he senses my stare on him. It’s impossible not to.
Everything hurts, and I fall back against the seat, tipping my head right back and closing my eyes. It’s barely even midday, and despite having done nothing but sit in a luxury jet all morning, I’ve never felt so exhausted. I need to sleep for the next twelve years.
“Where are we headed?” my driver asks, meeting my stare through the rearview mirror.
“Ummmm . . .” Shit. It would probably help if I actually knew where Madds lives. “I don’t actually know. I was thinking of staying with a friend, but I kinda haven’t run it past her yet and don’t actually have her address, but—”
“Your brother’s place?”
My brows furrow. “I’m sorry?”
“You had asked me to show you where he lived,” he reminds me. “Are you no longer wanting to see his home?”
“Oh, ummm yeah, of course,” I say. “But I’m not sure who owns it now, and I doubt I’ll be able to go inside.”
“We could always try,” he suggests. “Besides, it shall give us something to pass the time while you wait to see if your friend is happy to host you for the next two weeks.”
I don’t bother to tell him that Madds will be a screaming yes followed by a string of suggestions on how to spend our time, but the thought of getting to see where Axel built his life here is too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
The driver smiles at me through the mirror, and without skipping a beat, he puts his foot on the gas, and we sail through the busy streets of LA. It’s almost a thirty minute trip to the gated community the boys live in, and as the driver puts in the code for the main gates, I find myself sitting up a little straighter.
A strange wave of nervousness crashes through me, and as the gates open and he drives into the gated community, I find myself staring at every property we pass. It’s only a minute before we drive past Ezra’s home, and a flutter settles deep in my stomach just thinking about the life we could have had there together.
As he continues, I find myself straining to see around the coming corners, desperate to see the roads Axel would have traveled every day, the homes he would have passed, the neighbors he might have known. It’s only a minute before the driver begins to slow, and he eventually pulls into a driveway that’s overgrown with shrubbery.
My brows furrow. Clearly whoever lives here now hasn’t been taking good care of the gardens. Axel wasn’t much of a gardener, but I imagine he would have hired someone to care for his property.
My driver lets out a breath as he pulls up next to the keypad for the big gate at the top of Axel’s driveway. “Any ideas?” he asks, referring to the code.
“Ummm . . . Try his birthday. June fifth. 0605.”
The driver leans out the window and puts in the code before shaking his head. “Not it. Any other suggestions?”
“Uhhhh, my birthday, maybe,” I suggest. “1103.”
He tries again and when the little keypad beeps, the driver glances back at me. “We’re in luck.”
My eyes widen. “No way! It worked?”
As if on cue, the gates start to roll back and a wave of happiness rumbles through my chest. Why wouldn’t the new owners change the gate code? Seems a little silly, doesn’t it? I mean, the only people buying homes in this area are those searching for privacy and a great security system. Surely it’s counterproductive not to change the passcodes from day one.
The driver hits the gas again, and we roll through the gate and up the long driveway as I gaze out the window, completely mesmerized. This isn’t exactly the kind of property I envisioned my brother living in, but there’s so much I didn’t know about him in those last few years. I’d forced so much distance between us that I failed to get to know the real him.
He asked me a million times to come out here and visit him, and I hate that I never had the courage to do it.
The further up the driveway we get, I start to wonder if someone is actually tending to the property. While the shrubbery near the front gate is overgrown and a little wild, the gardens closer to the house are neat and tidy where the grass, while a little long, is manicured without a single weed to see.
The house is huge, just as big as Ezra’s, and I can only wonder what life would have looked like for him here. Did he have to yell to have a conversation with someone in a different room? Did he run through the long hallway in his socks, just to see how far he could slide? Did he actually love it here or was it just a house to keep his possessions warm?
“Did you want to try the front door?” the driver asks, indicating the grand stairs that lead to the entrance of the home.
“Oh, I don’t have a key.”
“I could be wrong, my eyesight isn’t quite what it appears to be, but it seems no key is required. It looks to be a keypad entry.”
My back straightens as my gaze flicks to the door, seeing the keypad he’s referring to. “Shit. Is it technically breaking and entering if you used the code? Like, this isn’t a felony, right?”
The driver glances back at me and shrugs his shoulders. “To be quite honest, Miss Stone, I haven’t got a clue. I’m sure this could be classified as trespassing, but I’ve always been an opportunistic kind of man, and when something stares you right in the face, why not grab it with both hands? If, and that’s a big if, there is any fall out, we’ll deal with it later. For now, why don’t you go see the home your brother created for himself.”
A stupid smile pulls at my lips, and I’m out the door before I even have a moment to really think about all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. As I reach the grand stairs that lead up to the front door, I glance back at the driver, who gives me an encouraging nod.
Making my way up to the top, I settle in front of the keypad and stare at it as a bundle of nervousness pulses in my stomach. “Ahhh, shit,” I mutter to myself, reaching toward the keypad. My thumb hovers over the numbers, not wanting to get it wrong and set off some kind of silent alarm.
Okay, so common sense would suggest that the front gate code isn’t going to be the same as the front door code, so considering Axel’s birthday didn’t work on the front gate, I start there, only for the keypad to flash red twice.
“Crap.”
My birthday is unlikely. If this were my home, I’d probably make it Ezra’s birthday, but I doubt Axel would have made the same call. Hmmmm . . . Mom.
A smile pulls at my lips as a wave of confidence crashes over me, and without hesitation, I start entering the code—0622. It flashes green, and I hear the soft click of the front door as it unlocks.
I gape at it as my heart races. Holy shit. I had not expected this to become my day, but fuck it. Nothing’s stopping me from going in now.
Pushing the door open, I slip inside what was once Axel’s home, and the most brilliant warmth settles inside of me. The foyer is huge, but the unmistakable scent of musky dust is thick in the air and has my brows furrowing. Maybe someone hasn’t been living here. It smells like a home that’s been locked up for years, with no sign of life. I make my way deeper through the halls, and as I pass what can only be the home office, I take in the floor-to-ceiling print of Demon’s Curse live on stage against the back wall. Ezra and Axel grin at each other like fucking idiots as every last person in the crowd has their hands in the air. The rest of the office is basically a shrine to the band, and the untouched papers scattered across the desk suggest that the very last person to be here was Axel.
Holy shit. This couldn’t be his untouched home, could it? Has someone staged this office to make it some kind of dedication to the great Axel Stone, or has this home really been sitting here empty for all this time?
The thought puts a jump in my step, and I hurry through the property, desperate to see what else is here. The kitchen and living spaces look like any other home and don’t give away much except the blown-up photograph of me, Axel, and Ezra on the wall—a photo I loved with all my heart until the anger in my soul had me delete the only copy I had off my phone.
Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t linger on it, instead, I head upstairs to the second floor, blown away with every new step I take. This home is incredible. And to think I’d been living out of the back of my car when I could have crashed here, especially on those nights that were below freezing.
I pass a room that looks like a home recording studio, and in the adjacent room is the extraordinary collection of guitars. Axel always considered himself a collector. He liked to have fancy things, and while I don’t really understand what I’m looking at, I know every guitar in this collection would have a story behind it, with an even bigger price tag.
There are a bunch of spare rooms and balconies that look over the huge yard and entertaining area. Not to mention, the pool that’s been kept perfect and looks like it was built for a god. In the summertime, I can only imagine the fun the boys would have had here.
Continuing on my journey, I come to a set of double doors at the end of a hallway, and as I grab them and peel them open, I realize this is Axel’s master bedroom.
A lump instantly forms in my throat as I take in his big, oversized bed, still with the blankets pulled back as though he hadn’t had a chance to make it before leaving. Tears well in my eyes, and I continue through the room, taking in the photo of me, Mom, and Ax on his bedside table. His phone charger still dangles from the outlet, and a glass of water still sits half full.
A suitcase is at the end of his bed, as though he’d just come in from his last tour and dumped his things, not bothering to take a moment to put his shit away. Typical Ax.
The tears roll down my face, and as I continue to his closet, I crumble to my knees, seeing all of his old clothes, but mixed in with the musky dust in the air, is him. I can smell him on his clothes, on the blankets stacked on the shelves, on the designer suits he absolutely hated.
My face falls into my hands, and as I sit here and cry, the grief comes up and claims me. “Oh God,” I cry, clutching one of the old blankets and pulling it to my chest, holding it so damn tight, I could almost imagine it is Axel.
Heavy sobs pull from deep in my chest, and I struggle to catch my breath. “I miss you,” I tell his empty closet. “You didn’t deserve to go, and I hate that you did, and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I needed you there, not just these past two years, but all the time. I need you now. I need you to make everything okay because I’m falling apart. I’m so broken, Axel. I don’t know how to fix myself.”
More tears come, and I wipe them on the blanket. “I wasn’t good to you. I wasn’t a good sister. I should have been better, but I blamed you and Ezra for everything. I was in so much pain, and I needed to blame you, and that wasn’t fair. I put so much distance between us because I was so hurt and angry that you left me behind to endure all that hell. I was too blind to see that you thought you were doing what was best for me. You wanted me to have school, a home, and a path to my dreams, but you didn’t know what was waiting for me at home, and I hated that you couldn’t see everything I hid from you. I needed you to save me, but you were gone, and I was too afraid to speak. You were my protector and you left me all alone.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, needing a minute to find some composure. “It’s not fair,” I whimper, hoping somehow, somewhere in this universe he’s listening. “It should have been me who died. You didn’t deserve this. You had so much more to achieve, so many dreams and tours to conquer. It would have been easier if it were me. You were my favorite person in the whole world. I love you so much. I miss you so much it hurts. I just . . . I need one more hug. I just need to hear your voice telling me that everything is going to be okay. I need you, Axel. Please.”
A moment of silence passes when a soft knock sounds at the door of the closet, and I whip my tear-stained face back to find Ezra hovering in the doorway. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his heart on his sleeve as he watches me fall to pieces on the ground. “The security company called to say someone was in the house.”
I nod, trying to wipe the tears off my face, and he doesn’t hesitate stepping into the closet and offering me his hand. “Come here,” he says as I take his hand. He pulls me to my feet and instantly wraps me in his arms, pulling me tight against his chest when I allow the tears to flow freely.
He scoops me up, bridal style, and drops down on a small bench, where he simply holds me, allowing the tears to run their course. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he tells me, making me wonder just how much of my sob-fest he heard. “If it had been you . . . It wouldn’t have been easier.”
“It would have been for me.”
“Don’t. Don’t say that,” he says, getting upset. “You really think that? That life would have been easier if you were the one who died?”
“Yeah,” I say bluntly, no hint of hesitation in my tone as I push myself out of his arms and scramble to my feet. “A million times, yes.”
Ezra throws himself to his feet, shaking his head, instantly starting to pace through the closet. “Don’t say shit like that, Raleigh,” he says, rarely using my full name. “You’re fucking lying. You did not want to die.”
“Every fucking day I did,” I say, stepping in too close, making sure he truly hears me as I feel every last bit of my control fall away. “You have no idea what I went through after you left, what hell you and Axel left me to endure, and believe me, had you known, you would have preferred I was dead too.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” he demands, his eyes wild.
I shove my hands against his chest as the words I’ve kept hidden for so damn long come bursting out of me in a fit of rage. “YOU LEFT ME WITH HIM!”
Ezra catches my hands, holding them too tight as he captures my stare, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he says, refusing to let me pull my hands free. “Who’s him? What happened to you, Rae?”
I shake my head, my heart breaking at the look in his eyes. “Don’t,” I cry, desperately trying to pull away. “Don’t make me say it.”
“Raleigh, please,” he begs, his voice breaking as he pulls on my hands and brings me closer, his warmth swallowing me whole. “I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me help you.”
I sob against his chest as his thumbs brush back and forth across my knuckles. “Rae,” he pleads in a soft whisper that shatters my soul, his broken heart just as torn as mine.
Lifting my gaze, I meet his haunted stare, and as tears pool in my eyes and race down my cheeks, my bottom lip quivers. It’s now or never. I need to tell him, need to get it out in the open or I’ll never have a chance to finally move past it. I need that chance to heal, and I won’t ever do it if I don’t have him.
“My father,” I finally say, feeling the weight of the words crush me. “You and Axel . . . You were my protectors, and you left me to the vile hands of my father.”
His hands go slack, and I instinctively pull away from him as he holds my stare, putting the rest of the pieces together himself. “No,” he breathes, horror in his dark eyes. “No.” But he sees the truth in my stare, sees the pain, the anguish, the fear. The nights I would scream in agony, the days I would stare at the kitchen knives and contemplate slicing the serrated blade across my wrists.
He sees it all.
He reaches for me again, but I pull away from his touch. “Rae.”
“Don’t,” I cry. “I . . . I can’t. Not yet.”
“Okay,” he says slowly.
“Just . . . I need to be alone.”
He shakes his head, stepping toward me, but I hastily back up again, my back against the closet shelves. “Rae.”
“Please, Ezra.” I sob, breaking down again. “Please, just leave. I can’t talk about it yet. I can’t . . . breathe. I can’t—”
“Okay,” he finally says, crouching down. He reaches out and cups the side of my face, and I instantly lean into his touch. “I’m sorry. I never should have pushed you like that. You’re safe. I got you, Rae.”
I nod and he stands to his full height before finally backing out of the small room, and the moment he’s gone, I allow myself to break, falling to pieces on the floor of Axel’s closet.