Suddenly in Love (Lake Haven#1) (21 page)

“That’s my cousin.” Mia hurried out of the kitchen.

“Can you make them stop?” Skylar cried, trying to nudge the dogs away from nipping at her feet.

“Come!” Brennan said sternly, and the dogs reversed course, racing back to the kitchen.

Skylar’s head came up at once, and she looked past Mia to Brennan. Mia looked at him, too. He’d picked up his bags, was ready to walk out the door. Skylar’s timing could not be worse. Mia looked back at Skylar—she was going to ask her to wait outside, but something was wrong. Skylar’s gaze was fixed on Brennan. She was gaping at him. And Mia was sure Skylar knew him.
How
she knew him, Mia was afraid to find out.

“What are you doing here, Skylar?” Mia asked.

“What?” Skylar spared Mia a glance. “Jesse had to go get something, so I talked Wallace into letting me bring up the tile that came in today. I thought I’d give you a ride home.” She shifted her gaze to Brennan again, her eyes moving over him, her expression one of pure delight. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Mia wanted to kill her. It had always been this way with Skylar, poking her nose in where it didn’t belong. “This is Brennan Yates,” she said stiffly. She glanced at Brennan, who was regarding Skylar warily. “And this is my cousin, Skylar McCauley.”

“It’s
really
nice to meet you,” Skylar said. “
Brennan
, did you say?”

“Yes,
Brennan
,” Mia said curtly. “Come on, I’ll show you where to put the tile,” she said, and touched Skylar’s arm.

But Skylar shrugged her off. “So what is it you do, Brennan?” she asked.

“Skylar,”
Mia said low. She put her hand on her cousin’s arm and turned her around. Skylar’s body came, but her gaze would not leave Brennan. “The renovations are down there. Go ask one of the guys where we can stack the tile.”

“I haven’t seen you around the village,” Skylar continued, ignoring Mia. Behind her, through the open door, a Lincoln Town Car rolled onto the drive and stopped when Drago appeared.

“I’ve been tied up,” Brennan said coolly.

“I bet you have,
Brennan
,” Skylar said, and laughed.

Drago walked in the front door. “Mr. Yates? Your car is here.”

Mia looked frantically to Brennan. She wanted to say good-bye. She wanted to talk to him. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Sorry for what?” Skylar asked.

He gave her a fleeting smile, but Mia could feel that something had shifted between them. Mia didn’t know what, but something had changed, and it didn’t feel good. It felt dangerous. It felt like a heart was going to break somewhere in this foyer.

Brennan walked forward. He took Mia’s hand and squeezed it. “We need to talk,” he said. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.” He let go of her hand and started out the door.

Mia stared at him, unable to think clearly. He was going to
call
her
and tell her he wasn’t coming back? “Brennan, wait.” She started after him.

“Mia—” Skylar tried, but Mia swept her arm against Skylar, pushing
her back. “Will you please just go ask where to put the tile?”

“But you—”

Mia hurried out onto the drive as Brennan handed his things to the driver. When he glanced up at her, she blurted, “Are you coming back?”

“What? Yes, of course.” The words came out of his mouth, but they didn’t sound terribly convincing. He touched her shoulder and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Of course I’ll be back,” he said again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, sounding a little desperate.

The driver looked at her sidelong as he opened the back door.

“Nothing is wrong,” Brennan said. “I’ll call you and explain when we can have a little privacy and some time to talk.” He smiled. “But I have to go.”

Mia stared at him, her thoughts racing around a million questions.

“Mia,” he said, and cupped her face. “I swear I will call you just as soon as I can. I wish I could stay and talk to you now, but I
have
to catch this plane.” And with that, he got in the car.

Dumbfounded, Mia stood rooted as the car pulled away from the house. She couldn’t see him through the darkened windows, but she could feel his gaze on her. As the car pulled around and drove down the drive, Mia’s stomach sank to her toes. She knew. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew that very moment that her glorious love affair had ended, just as she’d always known it would.

Her heart was twisting, the blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t notice Skylar at her side until she spoke.

“Is he gone?”

Mia slowly turned her head to Skylar. “Yes,” she said coolly. “He’s gone.”

“What the fuck, Mia?”

Mia’s mouth dropped open. “
Excuse
me?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Skylar demanded. “You look like you’re mad at
me
.”

“I don’t even understand why you’re here, Skylar!” Mia snapped. “Other than to meddle.”

“Why didn’t you
tell
me?” Skylar shot back.

“Tell you
what
?”

Skylar glared at her. But then her eyes widened. She gasped softly, then abruptly grabbed Mia’s arms. “Oh my God, you don’t
know
,” she said, her voice full of disbelief.

Mia pushed Skylar’s hands off her arms. “Know what?” she demanded angrily.

“I can’t believe it. Mia, you
really
don’t know?
That man
is Everett Alden! Does Drago know? Does Jesse?”

Mia knew that name, Everett Alden, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why. She just stared at Skylar, her mind racing through all the people Everett Alden could possibly be.

“Ohmigod, I can’t
believe
this!” Skylar laughed, and turned a full circle with her palms pressed to her cheeks. “This is crazy, Mia. He’s on the cover of every magazine right now, and the whole time, you’ve been sitting on him. Everett Alden is the lead singer of Tuesday’s End.
Please
tell me you’ve heard of Tuesday’s End, because if you haven’t, you must be an alien.”

Mia felt something seismic shift in her. She was furious with Skylar for saying anything like that. For ruining everything. “No he’s not,” she said, unable to believe it.

“Yes,” Skylar said, nodding adamantly, “he is. He’s like one of the biggest rock stars on the planet. How could you not know that? You really do live under some pretty painted rock, don’t you?” Skylar said, gesturing at Mia. “This is so typical of you, Mia! It’s like you take pride in being oblivious. I can’t believe my
cousin
has been fucking Everett Alden!” She laughed hysterically.

Mia was shattered. She was confused, disbelieving—and her chest felt as if there were a vice around it, squeezing the air from her. How could it be possible? It couldn’t be! His name was Brennan, not Everett. This couldn’t be some joke and she the only person who didn’t get it.

But then a moment wafted back to her. His mother had called him Brennan Everett.

“Are you okay?” Skylar said.

“Why is he on the cover of all the magazines?” Mia asked.

Skylar’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mia—because he fell off the face of the earth. He walked away from one of the most successful tours in years and no one knows where he is.”

The tightness in her chest was choking Mia, making her feel sick. A million thoughts and questions pinged in her brain. Why hadn’t he
told
her? Why did he have two names? She thought of all the times she’d teased him for being a rock star for wearing hats and sunglasses outside. And his music! She wanted to die, thinking of how she’d dismissed his music as a hobby of the idle rich. But he’d let her do that. He’d let her tease him and assume things and he’d never said a word. He knew what a fool she was, and he’d let her believe that there was something between them. Why? Just so he could fuck her?

Everything in her felt upside down. She’d just spent three amazing weeks with this man, only to find out he was toying with her.
Using
her.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I found Everett Alden,” Skylar said, her voice full of wonder.

Mia’s world cracked and opened beneath her feet.

Twenty

Disaster.

This was an unmitigated, irreparable disaster.

Brennan tried calling and texting Mia on his way to California, and then again on his arrival. Goddammit, he should have told her, but he’d let his emotions and his twisted thoughts get in the way. He could strangle himself for it.

He knew the moment her cousin looked at him that he’d been outed. And then the car service had come, and he hadn’t known how to drag her off to the side and tell her, then leave. He had decided that it would be better to call her.

That was a horrible mistake. He should have told her long before today. He should have called Phil and told him to hold off. But he
hadn’t. He’d kept those feelings for her at arm’s length.

To make matters worse, he had only had a moment here and there to
try and reach her. The moment his chartered plane touched down at the
Van Nuys Airport outside of Los Angeles, Phil whisked him away in a plain
Suburban with tinted windows like he was moving a jewelry heist to Kate
Resnick’s palatial home in the Pacific Palisades. “The label is getting antsy,”
Phil complained on the way there. “So’s Gary. I can’t fend them off forever.”

Brennan leveled a look on his longtime agent. “Why not, Phil? That’s what you’re here to do—fend people off so I can have a little space.”

“Dude, we all have to make a living,” Phil had said testily, and had turned his attention to the window again.

Brennan marveled at it. He’d been out of pocket for what, six or seven weeks? Everyone around him acted like he’d been stranded for years on a desert island.

Kate Resnick and two of her assistants invited Brennan onto the back terrace with a view of the ocean. She served freshly made lemonade and gourmet canapés. “I love the direction you’ve outlined,” she said to Brennan. “The narrative looks really good. Could we hear something?”

“Sure,” Brennan said. “It’s rough yet, but I’m close.” He played “Come Closer” on his guitar. He still wasn’t completely satisfied with the song, but when he finished, he looked up at the small group assembled. He was expecting smiles of approval. No one was smiling. They were staring at him, expressionless. A clammy feeling of uncertainty overcame him in that moment. Could he have been so wrong about the music? Was this what happened when he went solo?

“My God,” Kate said at last. “That was . . .
masterful
.”

“Did I tell you?” Phil all but shouted. “I
told
you!”

Sweet relief swept over Brennan. “So it’s good?” he asked sheepishly.

“Good? I want that on my iPhone right
now
,” Kate said, stabbing her finger against the table.

From there, discussions began about Brennan’s involvement with the film. They used the script as an outline, and went through it line by line, talking about the music both Kate and Brennan envisioned.

They talked most of the afternoon and broke for dinner around seven. It was late on the East Coast, but Brennan excused himself. His text to Mia—
How are you
—went unanswered. Another hour passed and Brennan stepped outside to call her. It rolled to voice mail. So he texted her again.
Please call me when you can. I’ll explain everything.

Nothing.

The next day, as Brennan gathered up his things to leave, a maid knocked on the door of his room and said someone had come to see him. For one heart-stopping moment, Brennan thought it was Mia, that she’d somehow found out where he was.

“He’s downstairs,” the maid said.

Not Mia. Brennan groaned. That would be just like Phil to get someone else up here to see him while he was in town. Probably someone from the label who Brennan would have to reassure that all was well.

He walked into the main living area. It was empty. He passed through the room and the doors that were open to the ocean breeze. Outside, near the pool, he saw a man in striped pants, a vest with fringe. His hair was tied up in a loose knot at his nape.

“Chance,” Brennan said.

Chance whirled around at the sound of his voice. His gaze flicked over Brennan. “Hey.”

“Phil told you I was here?” Brennan asked.

“No. But he told Gary, and Gary told me.”

Figured. “Okay, well . . .” Brennan cast his arms out. “You’ve got me. Here’s your opportunity to lay into me.”

“Dude, I don’t want to lay into you,” Chance said. He reached for a backpack on the ground and sat down on a concrete bench. He withdrew two beers and held one out to Brennan. Brennan hesitated. “Come on, don’t be a pussy,” Chance said. “We’ve always resolved our differences over a couple of beers.”

Brennan couldn’t help but smile. Chance was right. He took a beer from his old friend. “Are we going to rehash the same old stuff?” Brennan asked. “Because if we are, I don’t have anything to add to what I’ve already told you.”

“Okay,” Chance said. “I’m willing to start from scratch if you are.”

Brennan didn’t have much confidence that this would be anything but another heated and protracted discussion that went in circles.

But Chance knew him well. “Dude, we’ve been friends for more than twenty years,” he said.

“Best friends,” Brennan conceded.

Chance tilted his head to one side and considered Brennan. He twisted the top of his beer and took a long swig, then said, “Let me ask you something. Do you ever think of Trey?”

The question was a fist to Brennan’s gut. He swallowed hard against the swell of emotions. In true guy form, he and Chance rarely talked about Trey now. For Brennan, and he suspected for Chance, talking about Trey was too painful. “All the time,” he said hoarsely.

“Me too,” Chance said. “I wonder what Trey would say to us now.”

Brennan didn’t even have to think about it. He smiled wryly. “He would have been completely useless, Chance. You know that.”

Chance chuckled. “You’re right. He was never good for anything but drums.”

Brennan sat down on the bench beside his best friend. “I miss the shit out of him. I miss talking to him.” He swallowed again, this time to hold back a burn of tears in his eyes. He looked to the ocean and squinted. “This won’t make any sense, but sometimes, I think he bailed on us. Chose the easier path.”

Chance didn’t say anything for a moment. “Me too,” he admitted.

“You know, the last time I saw him in Palm Springs, he asked me if this was all there is.” Brennan made himself look at Chance. “If what we’d accomplished with Tuesday’s End was all there was to life. And you know what? I didn’t have an answer for him.”

“What would be the answer to that?” Chance asked. “No one can fault us for pursuing a dream. A lot of people don’t get that opportunity, a lot of people are stuck in boring jobs and yeah, that’s all there is. But if you ask me, it’s what you make of it.”

Brennan couldn’t disagree. Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong. He hadn’t made the best of a good thing. The two of them sat silently, staring out over the ocean, sipping from the beers. After a few minutes, Chance asked, “Are we really going to pull Tuesday’s End apart?”

“I don’t know,” Brennan said honestly. “That’s not what I want. But I can’t keep up the touring, and I can’t do pop. It’s not in me.”

“We make good money on tour,” Chance reminded him. “That’s the gig now for bands like us. You know as well as I do that record sales aren’t what they used to be.”

“We don’t need money. We’re rich as shit,” Brennan countered.

“Yeah, well I’m trying to keep us relevant while we figure things out. The commercial market moves too fast these days, and I still want to make a living.”

“I know, I know,” Brennan said, sighing. “I’m trying, Chance, I swear to you that I am. But I’m tired of not having a life. I can’t write on the road. I need time and space to think. I need to listen to music and read books and sit here and look at the ocean for a few days before I can write. I need to think about Trey, and I can’t do it from one sound check to the next. Do you realize in the last month of our tour, we had four days off?”

“It was a sonofabitch,” Chance agreed.

They drank some more. Memories of them as young men, finding their fame, came floating back to Brennan. Every day had been a new discovery. Every gig a high. “Remember how simple things used to be?” he asked.

Chance snorted. “When we were writing songs in your room?”

“Yeah,” Brennan said and smiled at Chance. “And when we began to get some play. We’ve had an incredible journey, haven’t we?” It was true that the three boys who had started Tuesday’s End were determined. They’d studied, they’d listened, they’d experimented. They’d go to school during the day, then play dive joints for no money at night. A few times, they even scraped together money to pay clubs to let them play. They played to empty houses. They were booed, they were cheated. But the desire to make music was in them, and they kept going back for more, because they shared that burning desire to be heard.

Brennan and Chance had talked about it before, but neither of them could really pinpoint when things had begun to change, when they’d begun to play to packed houses instead of a few old barflies. Then they were playing small theaters. Then arenas and stadiums. They’d blown up. They’d become a huge name, selling millions of records. They’d won Grammys, they’d been on the covers of magazines.

How had it all happened?

“We did it all, Bren,” Chance said. “And we’re still doing it. What’s the alternative? Soundtracks?”

“So I guess Gary told you everything,” Brennan sighed. “Is that so bad?”

“It ain’t us, man,” Chance said, holding his gaze. “It’s not what Tuesday’s End does.”

“Not before now. But why shouldn’t we?”

“It’s not commercial,” Chance said emphatically. “That’s the lane we have to be in. Commercial.”

“But it could be commercial. And even if there was no possibility of it, you really have no idea what we are capable of until we try.”

Chance clenched his jaw. He stood up and walked several feet forward to the edge of the pool. “You’re just like Trey,” he said.

“Meaning?”

Chance turned around to him. “Do I even get a say?” he asked stiffly, jabbing himself in the chest. “Do you have any respect for
my
career? For my life? Neither did Trey, man. He didn’t care about either one of us. All he cared about was that fucking needle.”

Brennan pushed his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. Chance was the one solid relationship he’d had in his life and it hurt him to have this discussion. It was like the crumbling of a marriage. He couldn’t keep Chance at arm’s length—they’d been through too much together. “I care, Chance. But you have to see where I’m at, man. I can’t keep doing shit that makes me so unhappy just for you.”

“But I should do what makes
me
unhappy for you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Chance clenched his fist and banged it against his thigh. “You know as
well as I do that if I left, Tuesday’s End could find another lead guitar. But
without you, we’re not Tuesday’s End. It’s not that easy for the rest of us.”

“I know,” Brennan quietly admitted. He’d always known that. Tuesday’s End without Everett Alden was just a good band. It wasn’t fair, but it was reality.

Chance looked like he wanted to punch a wall. He looked out to the ocean once more and shook his head. “So where are we?”

“Right now we are sitting at Kate Resnick’s house. Think about it, Chance. It could be a very cool collaboration.”

“And the band?”

Brennan didn’t say anything; he held Chance’s gaze.

Chance’s face mottled with anger. “You know what, Bren? Fuck you,” he said, and strode away from him. But he paused at the door and turned back. “Here’s something else for you to chew on. Trey was a coward. That’s all he ever was—a coward. He asked questions to cover up for the fact that he didn’t have the balls to get clean. Don’t turn him into some fucking saint.” He turned around and disappeared inside.

Brennan closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. His eyes burned with unshed tears; his throat felt thick. He swallowed again, this time against a swell of nausea. This was ridiculously hard. After twenty years, this was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced, the closest he’d ever come to a true broken heart. He loved Chance like a brother. Chance and Trey had been there for him when his world imploded when he was a boy, and he’d come to love Chance more than he’d loved anyone else. Brennan didn’t want to hurt him; he’d rather cut his own throat than hurt Chance. He owed Chance the truth. He owed himself the truth.

Was this all there was?
Did we all learn to love someone only so we could hurt them?

And then Mia’s face flashed in his mind’s eye. The bottle fell from Brennan’s hand and broke on the concrete at his feet. He folded his arms and bent over, feeling physically ill.

Trey wasn’t the coward. He was.