Hope Unbroken (Unveiled Series Book 3) (5 page)

chapter seven

Inferno

Waiting for a response from A. J. was about as hard as waiting for word back on my grant requests. Studying hadn’t helped. I had to move.

On my way to the store, I rotated the vent and wrenched my scarf away from my neck. Man, Riley’s car got hot fast. Or maybe it was me. My internal thermostat seemed to be stuck on
inferno
since seeing that “For Rent” sign on Monday.

How could Mr. Glyndon boot us out like that? Trey’d been there for years. Yeah, money’d been tight this year, but Trey was trying. We all were. I thought he saw that.

My cell rang from the passenger seat. Without looking away from the road, I groped through my purse. “Hello.”

“Ms. E?”

“Darius? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, I think so. But Trey . . . he was on the phone with that landlord guy. I heard somethin’ ‘bout him reneging on the three-month deal.”

What?
The inferno setting kicked up ten degrees. I wrestled my scarf off and tossed it in the back. “Are you sure?” Mr. Glyndon couldn’t be that heartless. He wouldn’t kick us out with Christmas only two weeks away.

“I don’t know. Trey was trying to keep it all hush hush, but he was gettin’ hot. I could tell. He dipped outside when he caught me staring.”

Leave it to Trey to insulate everyone else from the blow. But he wasn’t in this alone.
Deep breath.
“Do me a favor. Don’t mention it to any of the kids. Keep everyone cool. Business as usual, okay?” I glanced in the rearview mirror. “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t go doing nothing crazy. I never met this Mr. G., but I don’t trust him.”

A smile poked through. Darius might’ve been eighteen, but his protective instincts were really adorable sometimes. “Nothing crazy. Promise.”

“A’ight. I’m out, then.”

I dropped the phone on my lap, checked all my mirrors, and busted a U-turn in the middle of the street. We all had our own definitions of crazy.

By the time I reached the swanky neighborhood, my mind had sprinted home and back at least twice. Why was Mr. Glyndon making all these hasty changes?

I cruised up along a curb in front of a winding driveway leading to a ridiculously posh multi-story home. Even the guy’s mailbox had a suite added on it. I choked back an eye-roll. Glad to see he was hurting for that rent money.

A third attempt at calling him went straight to voicemail. I tossed my cell in the cup holder and rummaged through my purse for a pad and pen. If he wouldn’t take my calls, at least he could read a note. One way or another, I’d get through to him.

I jotted down my appeal and looked up right as a redhead snuck through the fence in a wraparound skirt and a bikini top that should’ve been fired for failing at its job. Where’d she come from, and seriously, who dressed like that in December?

Folding the page in half, I clambered out of the car. “Hi, excuse me?” I jogged toward her. “Is Mr. Glyndon home?”

A cautious glance met me halfway, fleeted behind her to the house, and sailed around the neighbors’ yards. “Mitch is out of town.”

Figured. “Is anyone home I can speak with?”

“Sorry, he’s on vacation.”

With his wife, no doubt.

She lowered her Hollywood sunglasses from her head onto her face and kept scouring the streets as she rubbed her arms, clearly antsy to get to her warm car.

If she had any connection to Mr. Glyndon, maybe she’d leak some information. Playing the naive card couldn’t hurt. “Do you live here?”

“No, I was . . .” She spun the back of a long, dangling earring. “Cleaning his Jacuzzi for him.”

While modeling for the swimsuit edition of
Sports Illustrated
? Right.

“Will you be
cleaning his Jacuzzi
when he comes back?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Possibly.”

I spun the note in my hands. What were the chances she’d give it to him?

A door opened across the street. She slinked by me. “Excuse me, I need to get going.”

I moved to let her pass and spotted a silver BMW idling several car lengths down from Riley’s Civic. I squinted. Same tinted windows as the one from the other day. Was someone following me? I started toward it, but the car peeled out again and zipped down a side street before I caught the license plate number. Perfect.

A backward glance turned into a spin. Miss Jacuzzi Cleaner had vanished, and some middle-aged woman in a leopard-printed jacket and high-heeled boots stood across the street with her empty mailbox box open as wide as her stare. For a second, I thought someone had thrown me into an episode of
Desperate House Wives
.

My stomach twisted as the pieces melded together. Mr. Glyndon’s sudden urgency to close the center, like someone was breathing down his neck. The indiscreet redhead. The gawking neighbor. Was that what this was about? Some kind of blackmail for catching him cheating on his wife? The implications almost bent me in half.

It had to be Tito. His reach never ended, did it? Even in jail, he’d found a way to taunt the center. Was this retribution for Trey not hiding his little brother there? He’d done all he could for the kid. What did Tito expect? A miracle?

Back at Riley’s car, I slid into the driver’s seat and started a new note to Mr. Glyndon. I didn’t care what kind of dirty laundry he had. He couldn’t cower to Tito’s threats.

A ring lit up my cell with the same strange number from the other day. I peered around for any sight of that BMW and tentatively swiped the screen. “Hello?”

“Miss Matthews?” a woman with an all-business tone asked.

I checked the rearview mirror. “Yes.”

“Hold, please.”

“Wait, what?” Instrumental music came through the line. Who called someone and then asked them to hold?

Someone picked up. “Emma, my girl, so glad to get in touch. Nick Copeland, here.”

Riley’s boss? What in the world?

He didn’t even pause for a response. “Listen, I don’t want to tie you up. We’re all busy, right?” The conversations in the background punctuated his point. “Yeah, Sue, thanks. Tell him I’ll be there in five,” he said away from the phone.

The buzz of voices dwindled behind what sounded like a door closing.

“So, Emma, I gotta tell ya, the music industry could use more winners like you. With all the drama these days, we don’t see a girl supporting her man in his career as much as we used to. It’s really somethin’ special. Riley’s a lucky guy.”

Did all businessmen have to be schmoozers? At least he couldn’t see my eyes rolling through the phone. “I’d say you ended up being the lucky one, landing a deal with him. I’m sure his level of talent doesn’t come around every day.” Two could play this game.

He took a sip of something. “Mm. Don’t I know it? Alls he has to do is hit the first stage, and he’ll build a fan base so fast, he’ll shoot to stardom overnight.”

And make you rich in the process.
A businessman through and through.

“But my real luck would be having you on board with Riley’s tour schedule.”

And there it was. Motives exposed.

I shimmied up in my seat, defenses rising. “Of course I’m on board. I only want the best for him—”

“That’s what I’m talking about. A real winner. Knew I could count on you to convince him to stop bucking.” He took another swig of his drink. “Collaboration is refreshing, isn’t it? So much better than having to get lawyers involved.”

Wow. Apparently, I could add underhanded threats to his list of charming traits. Was he going to sue Riley if he breached his contract? Was that what Jess had meant was the best part?

A line beeped in the background. “Listen, honey, business calls. You know how it is with these creative types. It’s a nonstop job, talking clients into knowing what’s best for their careers.”

I looked back at Mr. Glyndon’s house and the way the world worked.
You could always blackmail them.

chapter eight

Home

At least I had finals to distract me from thinking about Nick’s call. Recurring trips to Paradox Café had become even more commonplace than usual. All week, Jaycee and I’d joined the frenzy of students all boosting our caffeine intake before cramming for exams. The extra surge had pulled us through late nights and early mornings. Afternoons were another story.

Jaycee was sacked out on the couch, arm hanging off the side, mouth open, looking exactly how I felt.

I tossed my stats book off my lap and tiptoed across the living room. My phone buzzed from my pocket.

“Hello?” I whispered.

“Is this Miss Emma Matthews?”

I smiled at the sound of Riley’s voice. “Yes,” I said, playing along.

“The same Emma Matthews who’s engaged to Riley Preston?”

“The one and only.”

“Good. Then I have a very important message for you. He’d like you to know he’s dying to see you when his flight comes in today.”

“Today?” Shock echoed around the single word.

I clamped my hand over my mouth and spun toward Jaycee. She didn’t so much as flinch. I slipped around the partition wall into the kitchen and perched a hand on my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in today?”

“Well, I know how you love surprises.” A grin slid through his voice. “And getting to hear that
excited
response was well worth the wait.”

“Aw, sorry, babe,” I backpedaled. “Of course I’m excited. You just caught me off guard. It’s been a little crazy here with finals. These late nights are starting to take a toll. You should see me. I’m a hot mess.”

I picked at the frayed edges of my sweatshirt as my brain slowly caught up to the conversation.
Flight. Today.
I curved an untamed strand of hair around my ear. How much time did I have to get ready? “When do I need to be at the airport?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I made other—”

A knock on the door rippled into the foyer of the apartment.

“Hang on one sec. Someone’s at the door.” I glanced at Jaycee, but the noise didn’t appear to disturb her. Jeez, the girl slept through anything.

My phone dropped to the floor before the door fully opened. “Riley? How did you . . . ? When did you . . . ?” It didn’t matter. Without hesitation, I jumped into the only thing that did.

“Now
that
response was definitely worth waiting for.” He loosened his arms but held me with his eyes. “I’m home, Emma.”

Home.
I lifted on my toes to kiss him.
Me too.

A yawn seeped out from under the pillow covering Jaycee’s face.

Without moving a muscle, I slanted a glance toward the couch. Jaycee rolled over and nuzzled into the crease between the cushions, hidden from the afternoon sunlight and any awareness of our presence.

He motioned to the stairwell. “Let’s take a walk,” he whispered.

I hurled another once-over down my sweatshirt, tattered jeans, and Converse sneakers. I probably could’ve used a shower. Or at the very least, a fresh set of clothes. But like everything else in that moment, aside from being with Riley, my appearance was irrelevant.

I eased the door closed and followed him outside. The wind picked up the farther we walked. I pulled my shirt cuffs over my fingers as we rounded the last bend leading to the sports field. Frozen blades of grass crunched under our feet on our way to the middle.

“Man, I’ve missed this place.” Riley shuffled in a circle. His reminiscent gaze surveyed our favorite spot on the campus and landed on me. His forehead pinched. “Knowing you were here, making memories I wouldn’t be a part of . . . It was pretty excruciating.” He faced the sky. “I still have no clue what I was thinking, going there without you.”

“Riley, we’ve already been through this.”

“I know, and you’re right. I needed to go to Nashville as much as you needed to stay here. Didn’t make it any easier.”

I flicked my bangs off my lashes. “Tell me about it.”

He inched closer and caressed his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’d do it all over, though—walk through the pain of being apart, as long as it brought us to where we are now.” His eyes found mine, a grin following. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer not to let you go ever again.”

I draped his arms around me, one at a time, and looked from my engagement ring back to him. “Guess it’s a good thing you’ll never have to.”

Flashes of Nick’s call butted into the moment with the reminder that that wasn’t entirely true. As much as I didn’t care for the guy or his tactics, I couldn’t get around admitting he was right. Riley belonged on tour. We’d have to be apart again, but it’d be different from last semester. I wouldn’t let anything come between us. Not this time.

He held my gaze. “Promise?”

“Always.”

The slightest hue of doubt tinted his eyes. Had coming back here, back to where A. J. and I’d been alone, made him question that promise? My heart winced at how much I’d hurt all of us by not guarding my heart the way I should’ve.

He rested his hand on the small of my back. “Dance with me.”

By now, I’d learned to stop asking if he meant dance right where we were, without any music. To him, music never stopped. Which was exactly why he should be out there, sharing that gift and passion with fans. How could I convince him that was the right choice?

I set my chin over my hand on his shoulder, thoughts swaying with our feet.

He rested his cheek against my temple. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we don’t have to wait until summer to get married. Why not after winter break? We can even go to Vegas if you want.”

I tilted back. “But I thought you—”

Another laugh. “I thought I had a lot of things figured out.” He tucked flyaway strands of hair behind my ear. “Jackson’s moving out in January. We can live in my apartment here until you finish school. Nashville will still be there when we’re ready.”

But would his career?

His phone rang. He tipped it out of his pocket and strained to keep a smile in place. He kissed my cheek, swiped the screen, and turned to take the call. “Yeah, Brett, what’s up?”

What did his agent want? I rubbed my hands over my arms but couldn’t shake the sense that he was still downplaying this thing with Nick. And where’d eloping come from? He was supposed to be the sensible one.

Riley rolled a rock back and forth with his shoe. “Mm hmm. Got it . . . So, we’re all good? . . . Yeah, sure thing. We’ll be in touch . . . Yep. I appreciate it, man. Later.”

His shoulders rose and fell before he turned. “Sorry about that.” He drew me into the same position where we left off.

Like that was happening. I set a hand on his chest and looked him in the eyes. “Riley, I love you for wanting to protect me, but I need to know what’s going on.”

“Brett’s taking care of it.”

“Of what?”

Exhaling, he lowered his gaze to the grass and kneaded his shoulder blade. “Nick’s threatening to pull the album.”

My arms came undone. I backed up. “He can’t.” Our phone call . . . He hadn’t given me enough time to persuade Riley to go.

He scratched his jaw and squinted. “Technically, he can. But I doubt he will. He’s too invested. And Brett’s already found a loophole in the contract, anyway.”

“A loophole?” That didn’t sound sketchy or anything. “Why doesn’t that give me the warm fuzzies?”

He slid forward. “I haven’t finished recording that last song. There’s no way anything’s moving forward until that’s finalized.”

“Aren’t they sort of in charge of making the rules?”
And resorting to manipulating you when you don’t comply?

He swayed his head. “I like to think of them as guidelines.”

“Riley, you can’t push it back. They need you to go. Your fans need you. The—”

“You need me.”

I looked out toward the border of fir trees before he saw any confirmation of the truth in that statement. Of course I needed him. But not at the expense of his future.

If Nick weren’t being so hardnosed about it, we could’ve compromised—had Riley finish up the last track now and do some local touring until I graduated in May when we could travel together. I was sure a lot of money had gone into recording and promoting the album, but was Nick so pressed to recoup his investment he couldn’t hold off another six months?

His schmoozy voice hadn’t left my mind since he’d called. He obviously wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. If that was how the industry worked, fine. Why wouldn’t Riley just play along? “Do you even want to tour?”

He paused so long, I was afraid to meet his eyes again. “I want you more.”

I gripped the necklace Dad had given me and stared at the empty bleachers. “Riley, please don’t put me in the middle. You’ll end up resenting—”

“Can we not fight about this right now?” Assurance back in place, he laced his hands around my waist and tugged my torso close to his. “Come home with me for Christmas. We can talk about wedding plans after, okay?”

I exhaled a prayer.
Please help us through this.

Maybe spending the break with him would give me the time I needed to change his mind, but the prospect of meeting his family sent one reason to worry chasing another. “You haven’t been home in years.”

He dug the tip of his sneaker in the dirt. “Yeah, but after being back in Nashville—I don’t know—I just feel like it’s about time.”

That was for sure. Still, I couldn’t imagine anything more awkward than showing up to the family he’d left behind in anger his freshman year after a blowup with his dad.

“Sorry, I’m trying to picture this.” I impersonated him approaching the house. “Hi Mom. Hi Dad. I haven’t been home in over four years but thought I’d drop in. I’m about to tour with a major record label. And oh, by the way, this is my fiancée, whom you’ve never met in your life.” I cocked my chin at him.

His amusement gave way to sobriety. “I actually went home once—summer before my senior year. Jasmine was in the hospital. She didn’t know I came. No one did except my mom.” He scratched the back of his hair. “I wasn’t ready . . .”

“And now you are?”

“Hope so.” He released a hard breath and took my hand. “I need you there with me, Em.”

Then I couldn’t afford to be anywhere else. “Okay.”

He draped one side of his coat around me while we walked back to the apartment, but the fear of meeting his dad kept slicing through with the wind.

We strolled up beside his Civic. “I think I can handle Jake giving me the cold shoulder for leaving him with Jackson till we get back, but your mom’s not going to hate me for stealing you for the holidays, is she?”

I pitched a brow at him. “You kidding me? After you invited her to the lake house when you proposed, you can do no wrong.”

He brandished the self-conscious smile that was way too attractive for its own good.

“It’ll be fine. Austin’s planning a snowboarding trip with some friends, and Mom arranged to spend the holidays with my grandparents. I have to take my last final on Friday, and then I’m all yours.”

“It means a lot to me.” He reclined against the fender. “My mom will welcome us with open arms. My dad’s another story. And I have no clue what to expect from my little sisters. I’ve let them down too many times.”

“I doubt any of them have stopped loving you.” They’d all be ecstatic to see him. I was sure of it.
Me
on the other hand . . . I twisted my engagement ring back and forth. “Do you think they’ll come to the wedding?”

The corner of Riley’s lips climbed up his cheek the way it always did when he was reading between the lines. “They’re gonna love you.”

I slid the pearl along my necklace, not convinced.

He hooked a finger in my belt loop and drew me toward him. “Stop worrying.”

I folded my arms over my hoodie. “Hey, right back at you, buddy.”

We should’ve been experts at the whole conquering fear thing by now. But after as many times as we’d tried to convince each other we were braver than we thought, we might’ve just found the ultimate litmus test.