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“There’s
my beautiful fiancée,” Trey said, drawing Reagan into his arms for a kiss and a
loving embrace.

Ethan’s
stomach knotted with longing. Not for sex; he never felt lacking in that
department. But their easy and expected public displays of affection? He was
completely left out in the cold in that regard. He didn’t even
like
to
be affectionate in public, so he wasn’t sure why being excluded ate him alive. Mamá
seemed to recognize his need for a hug and gave him a squeeze.

“This
is hard on you,” she whispered. “I hope it is worth it.”

“It
is.”

She
leaned away and reached up to run a hand over the back of his head and gently
squeezed the nape of his neck. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, so he
had to look away. His gaze landed on Reagan and Trey, whose foreheads were pressed
together as they talked music. Another time he felt like the third wheel.

“I’ll
go with you,” Trey said. “We can announce our engagement. Maybe that will win
your dad’s favor.”

Reagan
snorted and then busted out laughing. “Oh yes, babe, you’re his dream
son-in-law.” She ran a finger along the hoops in one ear and another down the colorful
tattoo sleeve that completely decorated one arm. What Ethan wouldn’t give to be
able to touch him like that right now.

“I
clean up pretty good,” Trey teased as he kissed her nose.

“Do
you want me to go along?” Ethan asked, steeling himself for rejection.

“Of
course,” Reagan said. “I might need a bodyguard.”

“Are
you going to tell him the truth, then?” Trey said, hope dancing in his gorgeous
green eyes.

“
Fuck
that!” Reagan said. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Mrs.
Mendez,” she mumbled from beneath her hand.

“S’okay,”
Mamá said, flicking her hand at their surroundings. “Lots of fucks I hear
around this place.”

Butch
appeared unexpectedly at Ethan’s side. “We need you outside,” he said. “There’s
a situation.”

Reagan
grabbed Butch by the arm before he could get away. “Butch, I’d like to
introduce you to Rosa. She’s my guest, so I want you to treat her extra
special.”

The
man stared down at Ethan’s mother for a long moment. He then took her hand and
kissed her knuckles without breaking eye contact. Mamá giggled and said, “Your
mustache, it tickles.”

Nope,
no way, not happening. Ethan grabbed Butch’s shirt at the shoulder and spun him
around. “What kind of a situation?”

“We
caught people distributing free copies of
American Inquirer
to the fans
waiting outside. A
lot
of free copies.”

Ethan
focused on Reagan. All the color had faded from her cheeks, and the smile had
vanished from her lips. How could they do this to her again? Just now she’d
just been so happy. So alive. So wonderfully
Reagan
. At the mention of
that damned tabloid, she’d crumbled in defeat. He detected even fear in her. Ethan
wouldn’t tolerate this bullshit extinguishing his little spitfire.

“Are
you fucking kidding me?” Ethan stormed off, seeking the source of Reagan’s
continued turmoil. This was bullying. And the only way to stop a bully was to
confront a bully. He wouldn’t rest until someone’s throat was in his fist and
he was glaring hatefully into their cowardly eyes. Unfortunately, he didn’t
know who that throat and those eyes belonged to just yet. But he would find out
one way or another.

He
found several members of the security team behind the building discussing the
situation. Several bundles of printed papers were stacked at their feet.

“Did
you see who was passing them out?”

“Some
kids,” Big Mike said. “Said some guy gave them twenty bucks each to hand them
out to the crowd.”

“And
the guy?” Ethan said.

“He
was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans. That’s all any of them could tell us.”

“I’d
like to talk to them.”

“They
left.”

“Hey!”
someone yelled across the parking lot. “That’s the asshole that Reagan is
cheating with.”

Ethan
stiffened and turned his attention to the group of tough-looking biker women
who were pouring over the pages of a copy of the
American Inquirer
and
pointing at his picture and then at him.

“That
is
him!”

“Leave
them alone, you giant asshole. Trey is in love with her! They’re getting
married!”

“Maybe
you should go back inside,” Butch suggested. “We know what to look for at the
next venue. If this happens again, we’ll be ready next time.”

Ethan
rubbed his forehead. Every instinct told him to circle the building and look
for suspicious characters in blue sweatshirts handing out twenties to kids, but
he was pretty sure he’d be lynched if he tried. Trey was the kind of guy women wanted
to defend, and Ethan was the kind of guy they liked to tear apart. He was smart
enough to know when his patrol experience would prove useless. Whoever was
behind this—assuming the guy paying off kids was directly involved—was most
likely long gone. Ethan knew what he needed to do to catch him in the act. He
had to arrive at the next venue ahead of the buses and stake out the place
until someone arrived with a delivery of tabloids. If he caught them distributing,
he could get to the bottom of this shit.

However,
he did have a few extras crowding his schedule the next day. Keeping his mother
entertained and out of Butch’s sight was minor compared to the potential
backlash from Reagan arriving on her father’s doorstep. In the past, he would
have done what he thought was most important—and that was always catching the
bad guy—but he was a changed man. He was one hundred percent devoted to Reagan
and Trey, and he wanted their opinions. He couldn’t guarantee that he’d follow
their suggestions on how to proceed, but he did want to hear what they had to
say.

It
took him a while to hunt them down backstage. They were no longer in the wings
where he’d left them, and ever-enthusiastic Toni Nichols was giving Mamá the
gold-ticket tour of the place. Better her than Butch, he thought as he asked
them if they knew where he could find Reagan.

“She
was crying,” Mamá said, glancing worriedly toward a set of double doors. “She
didn’t want anyone to think they’ve defeated her, so she went with Trey to calm
down.”

“They’re
so mean to her,” Toni said. “And I’m sick of it. I should have thrown that
Susan imposter out of a window when I had the chance.”

“I’m
not so sure she’s the one that needs tossing out of a window,” Ethan said.

“Well,
I’m sure she does,” Toni said, a defiant fist planted on each hip. “I can toss
more than one jerk out of a window, you know.”

Ethan
was almost successful at not laughing at the image of this sweet, nerdy,
completely endearing woman tossing jerks out windows.

Toni
blinked at him behind the lenses of her large round glasses. “Are you laughing
at me?”

Ethan
shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re on my team.” He winked at her and then
turned to his mamá. “Will you be okay here if I leave you for a few minutes?”

“I’ll
be fine. Go love Reagan.” She waved him away. “She needs you more than I do.”

“She
should be in her dressing room,” Toni said.

Ethan
headed in that direction, hoping he’d misunderstood his mother asking Toni
about Butch as he hurried away. After locating the correct room, Ethan knocked
on the door and waited for a response.

“Who
is it?” Reagan called.

“Your
concerned bodyguard,” he responded.

She
opened the door, showing reddened eyes and anger-flushed cheeks. He loved that
Reagan was emotional—her deep emotions made her a passionate woman, and from
the start it had been her passion that had drawn him to her—but the amount of
stress she was under concerned him. The warring emotions she experienced had to
be bad for her. Part of him wished Exodus End would just fire her so she could
find a moment of peace. Another part of him was too proud of her to seriously consider
that wish.

“You
okay?” he asked, knowing damned well she wasn’t. Not really.

“Come
in,” she said. “What did you find out?”

He
checked down the hallway to make sure no one was watching him enter her
dressing room; they simply didn’t need another story about their tawdry affair
splashed all over the tabloids and the Internet. Thank God Trey had thus far
managed to keep her from reading about herself online. The vast majority of the
paparazzi who’d been following them were publishing their stories online. While
he’d still been in Texas, Juan had showed him hundreds of online articles he’d
wished he’d never seen. And the viral memes were even crueler than the
pseudo-journalism stories.

As
soon as the door was closed behind him, Reagan pressed up against his chest,
and he wrapped his arms around her. He was surprised to find her alone.
“Where’s Trey?”

“Having
a word with his brother.”

“About?”

“Hell
if I know. How many copies were distributed?”

“I’m
not sure exactly, but there were several bundles that weren’t handed out. The
crew got them in time.”

“Did
you figure out who is behind this disaster?”

“Not
yet, but I know a way I can find out. Would you be terribly upset if I left
early for Little Rock in the morning and staked out the arena for suspicious
characters?”

“We’re
going to my father’s in the morning. Butch already got us a car to use.”

“You’re
right, that’s more important. I’ll try to catch them next week in Grand Rapids
or Minneapolis.”

“Another
tabloid will be out by then,” she said, closing her eyes. When she opened them
again, she smiled. “Even though he’s never met you in person, we already know
my father hates you; let’s see how Trey holds up against him. I’d rather you
try to catch the bad guy for me.”

He
hoped the relief he felt didn’t register on his face. If she needed more
support as she confronted her father, he wanted to be there for her.
Truthfully, he didn’t think he’d be able to hold his temper in check if her dad
started belittling her. And as good as it would feel to tell the asshole off, his
temper wouldn’t make anything easier for Reagan. She loved her father. He was
the only family she had. And Ethan knew that deep down she didn’t want to be
estranged from him. She just wanted him to love her and accept her, even the
parts of her life he didn’t agree with. If the one person on the planet who
should love and accept her without conditions could do that for her, Ethan was
sure she could do that for herself. It pissed him off that such a self-serving
piece of shit still held that much power over her, but he understood. His own
mother’s influence would likely always motivate him.

“Are
you sure you don’t want me there?” he said. “I know how much he upsets you.”

“I’m
sure.” She kissed him and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I know
you’re dying to do some detective work. You’re going to look into that private
investigator license, right?”

He
chuckled. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with my mother.”

“Not
nearly enough,” she said. “Maybe we should go find her before she seduces
Butch.”

Ethan
stiffened and glanced at the door. “That’s a great idea.”

“Aww,
Butch would make a great stepdaddy.” She laughed as Ethan jerked open the door
and pulled her into the hall.

Not
happening. Nope. Not on his watch.

Reagan
gaped at Trey and then snapped her mouth shut so hard her teeth rattled. He
wasn’t kidding when he said he cleaned up well. The green-and-black-checked
dress shirt fit his trim upper body like a second skin, covering tattoos she
thought were sexy as fuck but knew her father wouldn’t appreciate. A snug-fitting
pair of black pants would have made him look like he was off for a day at a
respectable office if not for the Doc Martens he wore with them. He’d taken out
the jewelry from his various piercings and wore his hair slicked back so it
didn’t cover one beguiling green eye. He pulled off the clean-cut look almost
as well as he did the bad-boy look.

“Too
much?” he asked, lifting his toes off the floor as he looked down.

Reagan
shook her head. “You look great.”

Trey
slid both hands down his sides and into his pockets, jingling keys and change
with nervously twitching hands.

“You
ready?” she asked, finding his nervousness endearing. The man was a rock star,
yet the thought of meeting her father had him jumpier that a cat on speed.

“I
guess.” He blew out a long breath before scratching at one clean-shaven cheek.
“How did Ethan get out of this again?”

“He’s
on a secret mission,” Reagan said, though Trey knew exactly what Ethan was
doing that morning. She only hoped his stakeout produced results. “Besides, Dad
might think something’s odd about me introducing him to my new fiancé with my
supposed ex-boyfriend in tow, don’t you think?”

“Depends
on if you’re going to tell him the full truth or not.”

“I’m
not.” She’d already decided that.

Trey held a hand out to her and she
took it, noting that both of their palms were sweaty. “Then let’s go,” he said.

They
headed out of Little Rock to Reagan’s hometown of Benton, about thirty minutes
southwest of the city. She gave Trey directions to the modest brick split-level
that she’d lived in most of her childhood. The neighborhood was family friendly
and less than a mile from the high school, so it had been an ideal place for
her and her father. She was surprised that driving down the familiar streets
warmed her heart and brought back sweet childhood memories she didn’t often
dwell upon. She hadn’t thought she’d miss the place at all, but she’d been
mistaken. Her teen years had been the backdrop for a bitter battle between
father and daughter, but before she’d found a will of her own, they’d been
happy. She couldn’t deny that. It was midweek near the end of May, so Reagan
wasn’t sure if her father would be home or at work. She was oddly glad to see
his car parked in the short driveway.

“I
guess he’s home,” Trey observed.

“Guess
so,” Reagan said, unfastening her seat belt.

“I
was expecting something more Addams Family—gnarly trees in the front yard and a
thundercloud forever overhead.” He leaned forward to peer up at the cloudless
blue sky through the windshield.

Reagan
slapped his thigh and laughed. “Perhaps I gave you the wrong impression of my
childhood. It wasn’t all bad. I wasn’t locked in a tower and fed nothing but
bread crusts and water.”

“That’s
a relief,” he said before exiting the car. Remembering his manners, he hurried
to her side and opened the door for her. “Maybe we should have rehearsed what
to say.”

“I’ll
do the talking,” she said. “You just back me up. But don’t do an Ethan and immediately
pick a fight with him. My dad treats me like a naughty little girl.”

Trey’s
impish smile made an appearance. “You are naughty and little, but you’re no
girl.”

“Not
that kind of naughty.” She pinched his ass. “Dad expects me to be a certain way,
but I’m not the person he thinks I should be. That pisses him off.”

“Hey,
he’s the one who raised you.”

“
Not
to be like my mother. At least he tried to. Guess I got some bad genes in the
mix.” She winked at him to let him know she’d come to terms with all that long
ago. It didn’t mean she’d ever learned to like it.

“You
never talk about your mother. I thought she’d passed away.”

Reagan
shrugged. “I don’t think she has, but I wouldn’t know unless someone told me. I
haven’t seen her since seventh grade.”

While
Trey puzzled out her dysfunctional family, Reagan went to the front door and
found it locked. Rather than fish out her key, she rang the doorbell. Normally
she’d let herself in, but she had Trey with her and she wasn’t expected. She
didn’t want to give her dad a reason to start yelling at her the second she
walked through the door.

A
shadow appeared behind the frosted glass of the sidelight. A moment later the
door opened and her father stood there, eyes wide. He had a few more wrinkles,
his graying hair was a bit thinner on the top, and he’d lost at least ten
pounds since she’d last seen him. Still, he looked pretty damned good.

“Surprise!”
she said, throwing her arms around him and hugging him.

Dad
barely lifted his arms before saying, “Is this the guy?”

She
heard Trey’s boot scrape against the cement step as he straightened.

“So
you know?” Reagan asked, leaning away and putting on her
I’m-the-happiest-woman-alive smile. “I’m getting married!”

“How
could I not know?” Dad asked, his tone weary. “It’s all everyone at work is
talking about—the staff, the administration, the students. I had to take a day
off just to get away from all the prattling.”

“We’re
playing a concert in Little Rock tonight, so I thought I should bring him by to
introduce you.” She glanced at Trey, who was about five shades paler than usual—so,
basically, transparent. “This is Trey Mills. My father Gary.”

“Nice
to meet you, sir,” Trey said, wiping his hand on his slacks and extending it
toward her father.

“You
aren’t fooling anyone,” Dad said. “I know who you are. What you are. You’re a
rock
star
.” He said it as if speaking the foulest pair of words in the entire
English language. “A dirty, drugging, over-sexed, amoral, piece of debaucherous
trash.”

“You
got that right,” Trey said. Reagan was pretty sure she’d never loved him more.

“Dad,”
Reagan said, “don’t be a jerk. You don’t even know him.”

“I
know all I need to know.” He turned his back and shuffled into the house, but
to Reagan’s surprise, he didn’t slam the door in their faces.

“Have
I ever mentioned that my mom ran off to follow a rock band on tour and never
came back?” Reagan whispered to Trey.

“Uh,
no. You failed to mention that critical detail.”

“My
bad.” She took Trey’s hand and stepped over the threshold, leading him into the
house. She noticed the new floors immediately. A warm brown wide-planked wood
had been laid to replace the worn beige carpet. “The floors look great, Dad.”

“Had
them done before last Christmas,” he said. “Not that you’d know that.”

She’d
spent Christmas with Ethan’s family because holidays with them were actually
enjoyable. That fact didn’t make her feel any less guilty. “I’ll spend this
Christmas with you. Me and Trey. I promise.”

“Or
you can come out to California and spend Christmas with us,” Trey suggested. “Get
away from the cold. My parents have an awesome pool.”

“Of
course they do,” Dad said as he disappeared into the small kitchen off the
living room. “So when is the baby due?”

Trey’s
brow crumpled, and he looked at Reagan. “What’s he talking about?”

“I’m
not pregnant, Dad,” she said when they’d entered the kitchen and found him
filling a teakettle at the sink.

“Then
why are you in such a rush to get married?”

“Maybe
because I love him. Maybe because everyone loves him. You might even love him
if you’d give him a chance.”

“I
doubt it.” He set the tea kettle on the stove and turned the burner on.

“We
hope you’ll come to the wedding,” Trey said. “Two Saturdays after next. In Las
Vegas.”

“Of
course it is.”

“Dad,
please. Can’t you be happy for me for once?”

He
stared at her for a long moment, and she was sure he was going to at least
smile, but he turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs
instead. Trey reached for her hand and she took his gratefully, squeezing his
fingers as if she’d never let him go. And frankly, she wouldn’t. No amount of
disapproval from her father could change how she felt about him. How she felt
about Ethan. She was glad she hadn’t forced him to come along. At least one of
them could escape this feeling of condemnation.

“We’ll
book a flight for you and a hotel room,” Trey said. “You just have to show up.”

“I
might be busy that weekend,” he said, taking a bowl from a cabinet and cracking
two eggs into it.

They
weren’t invited to share his breakfast; it was his way of telling them they
shouldn’t dally. What had happened to her once close relationship with her
father? Had she irrevocably destroyed it by leaving? She sighed wearily and pressed
her fingertips to her eyebrow. She didn’t want to argue about her decision to
become an adult against his wishes. Not when there was a more important issue to
argue about.

“I
guess we’ll leave you to your breakfast then,” she said. “Trey has some hard drugs
to do, and I simply
must
suck a few strange dicks before lunch.”

Trey
winced at her provocation, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Leaving
so soon?” Dad didn’t seem to care one way or another.

“Yep.
And I’ll be taking Grandma’s cello with me.” She headed toward the den where
she’d spent countless hours rehearsing and not only because her father had
insisted upon it, but because she’d loved playing.

Dad
cut through the back of the kitchen and headed her off in the hallway, slamming
the door to the den and standing solidly in front of it. “You can’t take it,”
he said, his blue eyes blazing behind his square-framed glasses.

“It’s
mine. She left it to me.”

“It’s
not in there. I sold it.”

Reagan
gaped at him, mouth opening and closing in stunned disbelief.

“He’s
lying,” Trey said, standing behind Reagan and taking one of her shoulders in
each hand.

“Are
you accusing me of lying in my own house?” Dad bellowed.

“I
am,” Trey said. “There’s something you should probably know about me. I give
zero fucks what you think of me. I’m here for Reagan and only Reagan. And she
does care what you think of her.”

“Good,”
Dad said.

“It
isn’t good, it’s awful. Have you tried to quash her spirit her entire life or
just since she started thinking for herself?”

“I
don’t—”

“You
have!” Trey yelled, throwing out a hand for emphasis. “Maybe if instead of
trying to find faults in your daughter you could focus on everything amazing
about her—her talent, her passion, her sense of humor, her capacity to love and
to forgive. She’d even forgive
you
if you gave her the opportunity.
Maybe you should take credit for raising her to be perfect, but maybe you
can’t. Maybe she’s perfect despite you.”

Dad
stared at him as if he couldn’t believe that someone was dumb enough to think
she was perfect—which she admittedly wasn’t—but it sure felt amazing that
anyone, much less Trey muthafucking Mills, thought she was.

When
Reagan realized her father was never going to change his mind about her, her
shoulders crumpled and she turned to face Trey. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here
for me.” Not her cherished cello. Certainly not her father’s love.

A
latch behind her clicked and then hinges creaked as the door to the den slowly
swung open. When she turned, her father was staring at the new hardwood floor
in the hallway. The den still had the original worn beige carpet. In fact, as
she stepped over the threshold and glanced around, she found everything in the
room was exactly as it had been when she’d left years ago. The only thing
missing was not her grandmother’s cello, which stood slightly dusty in its
stand where she’d left it, but the stool she’d spent hour upon hour perched
upon as she played. She didn’t understand the significance of its absence.