Chapter 1
VAN
THREE YEARS AGO
“Explain this.”
I tapped on my phone, placed it in front of Brodie, and waited for his answer.
All I got was an eye roll and a huge cloud of pot smoke blown in my face.
“Knock it off and speak,” I bit out, waving off the earthy fumes that surrounded me.
Then again, maybe I should take a deep fucking breath because I could use some relaxation right about now.
We’d met at Brodie’s house instead of my office, and all the guys in the band were here.
Not that they were paying me any attention. They were too busy smoking, eating leftover pizza, and swallowing shots of tequila.
And it was only ten a.m.
They’d finished recording their second album a month ago, and we’d started the promo launch, including interviews.
But Brodie and I had different opinions on what was considered appropriate to share with the press. Or how to interact with them.
“You wanted me to do promo. I did it,” Brodie smirked, running a hand over his shaved head. His hazel eyes were glassy and bright with amusement.
“I wanted you to answer the reporter’s questions about the album and tour. Not fuck around with said reporter right after the interview and then piss him off. He wrote a very unflattering piece on you. Not to mention he’s left me and our PR rep several angry voicemails.”
“He’s just ticked off because I wouldn’t go back for seconds. Guy’s a fucking clinger.”
I grabbed my phone and slammed it on the table. I’d been working sixteen-hour days, and I was at the end of my goddamn patience.
Brodie’s ensuing chuckle had all the hair on my body standing on end.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I asked, standing up and pacing.
“You,” Brodie sneered, then inhaled another drag. “You’re wound tighter than Faise’s drums. You need to chill. This guy you’re talking about is the closest thing to a tabloid reporter. He tells lies for a living. No one’s gonna believe anything he says.”
I shook my head. “He already contacted the PR team and told them he’s gonna sue. Our lawyers are preparing a ten-thousand-dollar settlement offer as we speak.”
“Get the fuck out!” Brodie exclaimed, standing up to face me. “Suing for what?”
“He claims that after your interview, he—” I paused, my stomach doing a weird kind of somersault. “He gave you a blowjob, and you ruined the interior of his vehicle.”
“He’s suing me for getting cum on his car?”
Brodie burst out laughing, and so did the rest of the guys.
I stepped in closer, getting right up in his face.
Okay, even I could admit that the whole situation was ridiculous. And, yes, I’d probably laugh about it next week. But my boss had reamed me out an hour ago and my ears were still ringing.
So yeah, I wasn’t all that amused right now.
“Tabarnak, Dee! You just think you can do whatever the fuck you want and, haha, Van is gonna clean up the mess,” I snapped.
“Apparently not if my cum’s involved,” Brodie chuckled again, then gripped my shoulder.
His touch burned through the thin layer of my shirt. I had the strange urge to step closer to him but shook it off. Then he dropped his hand just as quickly.
“Come on, Van. This is hilarious. I stained his car seat, and he’s suing me? You can’t make this shit up. God, I fucking love this crazy life!”
I should’ve just chalked the incident up to another rockstar antic, but for some reason, Brodie’s flippant manner chafed me. And dealing with the aftermath of his many, many conquests was starting to wear.
And it had only been a year.
My phone rang and I glanced at it.
Incoming call: Dad.
“I’ve got to take this.”
I stepped out onto the patio overlooking the pool. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Dad?”
“You need to come home,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and low.
“Maybe in a few weeks, I—”
“Now. Van. Now. She’s gone. My Keira is gone.”
I registered his words, but I didn’t believe them.
Until I heard my dad’s sob, a gut-wrenching cry I would never forget.
I stood frozen in place, unable to breathe or fully wrap my mind around what he was saying.
Mom had been sick for a year, battling stomach cancer. The treatments had been going well, or so I thought. I spoke to her a few days ago, and she’d been upbeat.
“She… she complained yesterday that she was feeling hot, like a f-fever,” he stuttered, the words barely above a whisper. “I rushed her to the hospital, but then… it turns out she had an infection. In her blood. It was too late.”
“I’m on my way.”
I shoved my phone in my pocket, my hands cold and trembling. Then I turned around, but I was unable to move my feet and walk back inside.
“Van? Is everything okay?”
I looked up to find Brodie standing at the door, staring at me like he’d never seen me before.
“No. No, it’s not. My mom…my mom is gone. I have to go home.”
I didn’t notice the tracks of tears on my face until much later.
brODIE
One moment I was stoned and laughing my ass off, and the next, I was shoving the guys out the door and calling my assistant, Bibi, barking out orders like a goddamn general.
No way was Van driving after just finding out his mother had passed.
Bibi arranged for a driver to pick him up from my place so he could go home, grab a bag, and then head off to the airport. She’d arranged a private flight and pick-up in Montreal.
Before he left my house, I reached up and hugged him, holding him tight. He seemed shocked at first, then slowly slid his arms around my waist and clutched me even tighter.
There were things I wanted to say, but I didn’t think “I’m sorry” would ever be enough.
Much as I loved to provoke Van, I liked him. I considered him my friend.
A funny ache in my chest bloomed when I heard his indrawn breath. Then I realized I was probably holding on too long and let go.
A half-hour later, he was gone, and I was left pacing in my house.
I called Bibi again.
“I’m going up there.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“You didn’t see what he looked like, Bibi. He can’t be there alone. He has no siblings or any other family outside of his dad.”
“Pack a bag, and I’ll pick you up.”
“You’re coming too?”
“See you in an hour. And don’t forget your passport.”
Five hours later, we arrived in Montreal; weed is legal there, and thank fuck because I was still stoned. Then I realized on the drive from the airport that I didn’t even know where his parents lived.
“I’ve got the info. We’re going to the hotel first. Then we’ll figure out the rest,” Bibi announced, seemingly reading my mind.
When Bibi and I knocked on his parents’ door an hour later, Van answered.
The shocked look on his face was followed by tears that had my heart nearly breaking in half.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We thought you could use some friends,” I replied.
Van broke down again and nodded, ushering us inside.
“I… normally, I’m the one managing everything, but I can’t seem to make a decision. And my father, he… he’s still in shock.”
Bibi gently placed a hand on Van’s. “I’m here to help you organize anything you need. Where’s your dad?”
“He’s asleep right now.”
“Why don’t you tell me where the kitchen is, and I’ll go make us coffee to start.”
“Down the hallway, to the right. And thanks, Bibi.”
She nodded and walked off, leaving Van and me standing in his parents’ living room. The place was cozy and warm, with a large bay window overlooking the yard.
Suddenly, I was self-conscious like I never was.
What the fuck could I do for Van? What did I know about the kind of loss he was dealing with? I was just a cocky musician with a penchant for mouthing off.
“This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” Van asked as he stared at me.
Instead of saying yes, I nodded.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Van continued. “Thank you.”
“I told you, we’re friends. So there’s no thanks necessary.”
Van stepped closer and pulled me in for a hug.
It surprised me, and when he pulled back, I could see the same look on his face.
Then he wiped his tears and urged me to sit down.
We spent the next hour talking.
Don’t ask me what we talked about. I don’t remember. I just recall staring into his blue eyes and thinking that I wanted to do something, anything, to help him.
I could tell he was grateful for the distraction. And for the company.
Van was used to being the caretaker. It was nice to give him something in return, even if it was just for a moment.
Yeah, I usually gave him a hard time, but I knew he had my back.
And from that moment on, I had his.