Chapter 12
Derek
“Thanks for your help.” I toss Mav the keys to the truck he borrowed.
“For A? Anytime,” he replies easily. “Catch you later.” Mav slides into the driver’s seat and pulls away from Allegra’s old place.
She’s almost done with her shift at Beirut and tonight, she won’t be sleeping here. Taking in the shape of the building, the boarded-up windows and sagging porch, it’s hard to imagine Allegra called this place home for the past few months.
I wonder what Levi would think if he could see his sister.
The old Levi, the guy I first met, before The Burnt Clovers blew up, before the fame and the women and the fast pace of our lives, would be appalled.
That guy would’ve moved his sister overnight.
He would’ve shown up with pizza and beer and asked her what she wants out of life, volunteered himself and his network to help her achieve her dreams.
The Levi of last summer barely made time for his sister.
He was too busy snorting coke and fucking Allegra’s high school frenemy behind her back.
Is he horrified by his behavior now? Does the guilt eat his stomach like acid during the late nights?
When he can’t sleep, does he regret not taking the olive branch when Allegra extended it?
Does he wish he could back to the start of summer? To the beginning of our tour? Do it all differently?
Fuck, I wish I could.
I kick a rock onto the unkempt lawn and turn away from Allegra’s old rental. Good fucking riddance.
Getting into my car, I point it toward Beirut and wait for Allegra to finish work.
While I wait, I fiddle with my phone. Another email from Jess. This fucking Derek Madden won’t quit.
Blowing out a sigh, I tap on the attachment to open the letter from Madden’s lawyer.
Scanning it quickly, I slow down to reread one portion.
Mr. Madden wasn’t aware of his son’s birth, or that he even had a child, until Judy Reiner’s death when Derek Reiner was twenty-five-years old. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Madden checked into a rehabilitation center and began…
Judy Reiner’s death.
My mother was fucking dead, and no one bothered to tell me. How the hell did I not know? She passed after the band blew up, and yet, she never reached out.
Was it an overdose? Was it an illness? Why the fuck would Derek Madden know before me? He was a guy she fucked, and I was her goddamn son.
A strange sensation flows through my body, gathers in the pit of my stomach. I stare through the windshield, at the rows of parked cars, and try to recall her face. The sound of her laughter. The scent of her perfume.
Squinting, I drag up an ancient memory, the edges faded like an old photograph.
Like even my mind can’t bear to recall it vividly.
She was beautiful, for a brief time. Long, blonde hair that curled around her shoulders.
She used to wear it pulled back in a navy clip.
She was wearing a sundress decorated with cerulean blue and white flowers.
She was barefoot, chasing me around the kitchen in a game of tag.
“I’m gonna get you!” she taunted.
I squealed, running as fast as my legs would carry me. I misjudged my distance from the countertop as I cut the corner and caught the side of my forehead, right above my temple, on the corner.
My sob cut the air and my mother—Judy—scooped me into her arms, bringing me to her chest. “Oh, Derek,” she sighed. “Let’s clean you up.”
The smell of antiseptic wafted around me. Her gentle touch as she placed a Band-Aid on the cut. The streams of sunshine in the kitchen. Her bare feet.
I shake my head and the memory fades.
I chuckle but the backs of my eyes burn.
I press my thumb against the small scar that’s hidden by my hair.
One memory; I found it. One moment of happiness with my mom before the stints in the shelter started, before child services got involved, before the foster system bullshit and Simon’s rough hands.
But I have one good memory. And even that ended with bloodshed.
I blink a few times, trying to clear the moisture that gathers in my eyes.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tapping the end of my fist on the top of the steering wheel. “Pull your shit together, Reign. She was a goddamn drug addict.”
But she was your mother, my mind replies.
I blow out a shaky exhale, relieved that the back door to Beirut opens and Allegra steps out. Her presence, even through the windshield, soothes me. Helps me push away the confusing thoughts about my mom, about my childhood. I open the car door and step out, keeping the door between us.
She smirks when she sees me, and it warms my heart.
A smirk is better than a middle finger.
“What are you doing here?” she calls out, walking toward me. “I lined up a ride with a girl I work with.”
“Wanted to take you home, to your new place.” I toss her keys.
She catches them easily, glancing down at the key ring, her finger tracing the whistle I added in addition to her new keys, before meeting my eyes. “Just like that? It’s that easy?”
“Your old landlord has been paid until the end of the month. I got your security deposit back.” I hold out an envelope with some folded-up bills.
She regards it and hesitates.
“Take it, Allegra.” I push it closer.
She finally relents and takes the envelope, slipping it into her back pocket. “Thanks.”
“Let me take you home,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I’ve gotta sleep at my old place tonight. Pack up and—”
“You’ve already been moved in,” I inform her.
Her mouth drops open, and she places a hand on her hip. “Derek, you can’t just—”
“I already did. Come on.” I tilt my head toward the passenger seat.
Allegra huffs out a sigh but walks around the front of my car and slides into the passenger seat. I sit down and flip the ignition, turning the car toward her new place.
“How was work?” I glance at her.
“Busy.” She taps out a text on her phone and sends it.
“You tired?”
She stifles a yawn. “Yeah.” She looks at me and her eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”
She notices. She knows. That stupid swell of emotion rises again. This time it crashes at the base of my throat, and I clear it, nodding.
“All good,” I say, unable to stop my grin. I glance at her, and my smile widens. She cares.
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” I chuckle.
She points at me. “Stop smiling; it’s fucking creepy.”
I laugh and look back at the road.
In my peripheral vision, I note that Allegra rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
For a heartbeat, it’s like old times between us. There’s that tug of understanding, partly from muscle memory and partly because we’ve still got it—the spark, the chemistry, the connection.
When we arrive, I walk her up to her new apartment and idle outside the front door.
When it swings open, she glances at me. “You coming in?”
I shake my head.
Confusion twists her expression. “Why not? I assumed this arrangement came with some…strings.” Her eyes dart from me to her apartment and back again.
A beat of anger pulses through me. Is she joking? She better be. “Nope. This arrangement is to keep you safe. Comfortable.” I lean over and brush a kiss to her cheek before I can check myself. “Good night, Allegra.”
She watches me curiously. “Night.”
I tip my head toward her open door. “Go in now and lock the door.”
She nods, steps over the threshold, then closes the door and flips the deadbolt.
Once I hear it slide into place, I let out a deep exhale and return to my car. Then, I drive home, shoot the shit with Mav, and slide into my bed. Alone.
But for the first time in months, since summer in Boston, I don’t feel lonely.
I give Allegra space for the next few days. As she settles into her new place, I get busy with promoting River Wells Whiskey. On Saturday, I wrap up an event early after learning from Mav that Allegra is hanging in tonight.
Picking up some Italian takeout, I take my chances and drive to her place.
“Still stalking me?” she asks when she answers the door. But one side of her mouth tugs up and her eyes soften.
“I brought a peace offering,” I reply, holding up the takeout bags.
“I thought the apartment was the peace offering,” she mutters as I step inside her place.
I walk into the living room and look around, liking the homey touches she added. Her couch, as uncomfortable as it is, looks better in this space. A simple throw blanket rests over one side. She even hung two pictures and added some knickknacks.
“Looks good in here,” I comment.
I set the bags down on the kitchen table. Allegra grabs two plates and utensil sets from the kitchen and places them on the table. “Wine?” she asks.
I smirk. “I hope I can keep up with you.”
She chuckles and moves back to the kitchen. A moment later, she returns with a bottle of red wine tucked under her arm and two filled glasses. She passes me one.
“Cheers, Derek,” she says.
The sound of my name in her voice—the soft, sultry tone—sends goosebumps over my arms.
“Cheers,” I reply, clinking her glass before taking a sip. “This is decent.” I smack my lips.
“I’ve got good taste,” she reminds me, sitting down at the table and reaching into the brown paper bag.
Once our plates are filled, she points at me with the tines of her fork. “So, what are you doing here?”
“Just came to hang out.”
“How’d you know I was home? And alone?” She lifts an eyebrow.
I sneer at her “alone” comment. She better not be bringing any fuckers, like Ethan, around. “Mav.”
“Traitor,” she mutters.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
Then, she looks up again and stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, over the summer, you messed with my head every chance you got. You ran so hot and cold, you gave me whiplash. And now, you’re…”
“I’m what?” I place my fork down, wanting to hear what she has to say.
“You’re present. Looking out for me, showing up for me, being…I don’t know, nice.”
“I always looked out for you.” I scowl at the insinuation that I didn’t, even though I understand her point. “I just did it behind the scenes.”
“Exactly. Why are you all…front and center now?”
“Because doing it the way I was hurt you,” I say honestly.
She rears back, surprised by my candidness.
“Allegra, I know I fucked up. I know my leaving hurt you. But I truly thought it was for your own good. Fuck, baby, I resisted you all damn summer. You’re Levi’s sister and Levi was hanging on by a goddamn thread.
You’ve got this bright future ahead of you and the band was heading out for a full European tour.
If you came, if we fucked around and it didn’t work out…
I was worried that it would affect the band, Levi, and hurt you.
Instead, everything I hoped to avoid came true and it was infinitely worse than I could have imagined. ”
“With my brother?”
I nod. Sigh. Grip the side of my neck. “Yeah. Levi was in rough shape.” I look up, catch her dark eyes and hold them.
“And you. I had no idea you…” I roll my lips together.
Give her the truth and hope she’s ready to hear it.
Accept it. Forgive me for it. “I’m sorry, Allegra.
I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for leaving you. And I’m sorry for making you doubt me.”
“I never doubted you,” she says softly. “I doubted me. My ability to judge someone’s character. My ability to hold on to a good thing… I’m no longer angry with you, Derek. But I don’t trust you.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” I say, meaning it. I wouldn’t fucking trust me either. “But I’m going to win back that trust, Allegra. I swear it.”
She snorts and twirls spaghetti on the tines of her fork. “Good luck.”
“I don’t need luck.”
She looks up again.
“I’m persistent as hell when I go after what I want. And I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you.”
She stares at me for a long beat before raising her wine glass and taking a sip. When she looks back at her plate, she breaks the moment.
I take a sip of my wine and focus on eating dinner, on enjoying the presence of her company for what it is.
A moment with my Stellina.