STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (15 page)

IT TOOK THEM SIX MONTHS
to get my house back in order after the fire I’d started. Addy called in a decorator who wanted to do some remodeling, but I refused. Wills decorated our home. No way in hell was I changing it. Walking through the rooms now I don’t look at them. They’re just rooms. Not a home without Willow. With a towel slung over my shoulder, I walk into the home gym that’s seen more action in the last few months than it has in all the years I’ve lived here. My phone chimes just as I’m about to put on the radio.

Judge: Law and I will be there in two

Me: You’re late. Just come to the gym

Judge: Fuck off, I’ve got shit going on

Me: Just get here, pussy

Tossing my phone aside I start setting up the weights. Koa is meeting with his contact from Paradise to make sure I’m doing my thing and he’s doing his. None of them like to leave me alone for long, which I appreciate most days. Not that I don’t trust myself. I do. Most days. I’m just not used to being alone here, and I fucking hate it. I find myself listening for Willow to come into the house. Walk into a room. And when she doesn’t, I want to break shit. Start a fire that will burn this motherfucker down for real this time.

I thought by now we would have found her. A couple of months ago, we met with the guy that Lawson hired in LA. He was following up on a lead but not fast enough for me. He thinks she left the country and that’s why he’s had such a hard time finding her. I told him that she grew up in Canada and he said that’s where one of his leads was, so he’s going to dig deeper into that one, but there’s a lot of red tape because it’s Canada. Every single day I’m so tempted to hop a plane and go there myself, but I have no fucking clue where to even start. All of Willow’s family is gone. She’s never mentioned friends in Canada. We’ve never gone to visit anyone the times we’ve been there for the Much Music Awards, or if we were there on tour. I have no idea where to begin, so I fucking wait. And I hate waiting.

With my thoughts all over the place, I sit on the bench, trying to get out of my own head. Linkin Park is wailing around me, eyes closed, my head bobbing along with the beat. Just then the door opens and in walk the brothers.

“‘In the End,’” huh? It’s gonna be one of those days. Noted,” Law says as he strolls in. “You and Judge are gonna be fun to fuck with today.”

“Get fucked, Law,” Judge grumbles, tossing his keys, wallet and phone on the counter.

“See? Fun,” Lawson tells me laughing.

Getting up, I turn the stereo down a bit. “Why are you in such a shit mood?” I’m glad to have something besides me to focus on for a change.

Judge groans, “I don’t even want to fucking talk about it.”

“Oh, I want to talk about it. Let’s talk about it,” Law says gleefully. “You remember that chick, Brianna, he was tagging for a while there?”

“The model from the video, right?” I’m not sure that’s right but it sounds familiar.

“Yup. That’s the one. Well, seems like his model fuck buddy is preggers.” He pauses to let that sink in. “With his baby.”

I turn to look at Judge. Of all the people I know, he’s the last one I expected to ever find himself in this position. Law has to be bullshitting me. “There’s no fucking way. Is there, Judge?” I ask incredulously. He shrugs his shoulders and runs a hand down his face.

“Fuck. Maybe? There was one time the condom broke,” he mumbles, his hand covering his mouth.

“Did you seriously just say that? Does that shit really happen?” I bounce between Law and Judge.

“Apparently, because it did,” Judge bites out.

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah. And this asshat over here thinks it’s the funniest shit ever,” he says, jerking his thumb in his brother’s direction.

“That’s because it is. The responsible one in the bunch with his suits and ties and college degree. Looks like your dick didn’t get the memo that you aren’t the rock star, you just manage them,” Law ribs him.

“Fuck off, Lawson,” Judge mumbles.

“Don’t poke the bear, man,” I warn still trying to process the news. A baby. In-fucking-sane.

With a bounce in his step—he really is too stoked about this shit—Lawson fires up the treadmill and starts to beat feet. “Addy said Scarlet might be flying in?” he asks as he adjusts his speed.

“Yeah. I’ve been avoiding her. I think she’s sick of it.”

“Why the fuck are you avoiding her?” Judge calls out, turning the radio down.

“Because she doesn’t know about me and Wills. I don’t want her asking a fuck ton of questions. We went and saw her right before—all that shit. She’s already stressed about the whole rehab thing; I don’t need her tweaking over Willow being gone too,” I tell them, settling on the bench, waiting for Judge to come spot me.

“You know she’s probably read all about it if she didn’t see that interview you did, right?” Judge asks from above me.

I just grunt. I have more than enough to worry about. My little sister wanting answers is so far down on the fucking list I can’t even be bothered.

As we’re wrapping up, Law’s phone starts ringing, “What’s up?” he answers, making Judge shake his head in disgust.

“I swear to fuck, he’s got no fucking manners.”

“No, but he does know how to wrap his dick,” I throw at him as I bound up the steps, a pissed off Judge hot on my heels.

I stop when I hear Lawson say, “Wait, wait, Addy, slow down. He found her?” My head whips in his direction so fast it makes me dizzy. Eyes glued to his I stalk toward him, reaching for the phone. Batting my hand away, “Text me the addresses.”

“Fuck the addresses, Law. Get me a fucking flight,” I bite out at him, my mind racing.

“Did you hear that? Yeah, me and Judge too. Arrow not ‘til later, he’s visiting his mom.” Law looks over at Judge for confirmation. Nodding he reaches for his own phone, to make arrangements I’m sure. I’m the only one standing there with nothing to do. Nobody to call because my somebody needs to be found.

When Law hangs up, he just looks at me. Quietly assessing. “You ready for this, Stone?”

I get what he’s asking. He promised me he’d help me find her and he has. But he also said we wouldn’t follow up any leads until I was certain I was ready. That I felt secure in my sobriety. I feel as secure as I think I’ll ever feel.

“I’ve been ready.” I answer honestly. He nods and that’s the end of the discussion.

With nothing left to say I turn and head for my room. It’s time to find my rhythm.

Stone

I’VE BEEN SITTING IN FRONT
of the school for about three hours now. Driving myself insane, my leg bouncing constantly as I chain smoke. Nothing to do but think about all of the ways I’ve fucked up.

It’s been about a year and a half since I’ve seen Willow. Sixteen long ass months the first of which I spent wallowing in coke, pills, and alcohol until finally checking myself into rehab. I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I craved the high all the time, but not the other bullshit that came with it. She was right to leave me. Fuck, I threw her away. My muse, my heart. Threw her away without a care. So if I had to sit here for another three hours just to catch a glimpse of her I would. Tapping out a beat on the steering wheel, I glance at the clock again. It had taken me months to even fucking find her. My Wills hadn’t wanted to be found. She came back home to Canada. I never even thought to look for her here. She left this place when she was seventeen and had never mentioned coming back for more than a visit here and there. Always claimed there was nothing here for her after her parents had died and she had been shipped off to live with her aunt, Law and Judge’s next-door neighbor. Sighing loudly, tired of my own damn company, I stretch over the center console and pop the glove box, grabbing one of the lollipops I threw in there. I’m as addicted to these things as I am everything else in my life. Unwrapping the raspberry flavored lolli, I pop it into my mouth just as the front door of the school opens. Slowly, I straighten in my seat, my hand reaching for the door handle as I watch a lumberjack looking motherfucker hold the door open and let a woman through. She smiles up at him in thanks, patting his chest with her hand, and my pulse stutters.
Willow.
Even from here I’m sure it’s her. My veins feel singed and my heart . . . my heart starts beating in rhythm for the first time in five hundred and forty-seven days. And just as quickly as it finds its rhythm—it stops.

In a stunned haze, I unfold my tall frame from the rented SUV and quietly close the door, my eyes never leaving her as I round the hood, stopping and watching her walk toward me. She looks amazing. Her hair looks longer and a little lighter. A black shirt clings to every one of her curves. Curves that I’ve run my hands over, kissed, and worshipped more times than I can count. There’s a metal studded belt sitting low on her hips, legs covered in painted on denim, and she has on her favorite Chucks, making me smile. God, I’ve missed her.

There’s a strange man’s hand on her back as he carries her case over his shoulder and something much more precious in his left hand. It’s that sight that scares the fuck out of me. Not paying attention to my surroundings I lift a shaky hand to my mouth, removing the now too sweet sucker and step into the road. I’m brought back to the present when a horn blares and tires squeal. Shocking me out of my stupor, I raise my hand in apology to the young kid swearing at me and shaking his head in disgust. When I look back toward the cause of my dazed condition, she’s watching me with wide, startled eyes. My name falling from her lips but lost on the breeze. I had missed the sound so much, but I never realized just how much until it was lost to me, even as I stood so close.

Again I stand frozen, just feet from her, my eyes darting over her and blanching when the Paul Bunyan lookalike leans down and says something in her ear making her blink quickly, breaking her from her own daze, and nod at him as she places something in the car seat. The car seat, holding a beautiful little baby wrapped in pink. When he moves in and places a kiss to her cheek, I step forward, taking the strap of her guitar case he was slipping on her shoulder.

“I got it. You can go,” I bite out, the shock having worn off replaced by possessiveness and red hot jealousy.

Situating himself in front of Willow, he widens his stance, not releasing his hold on the case, same as me. “Who the hell are you to tell me I can go?” His voice is so deep it’s almost unnatural. Before I can respond, Willow steps around him, putting a hand to his arm. “It’s okay, Bear. I’ll see you tonight,” she says reassuringly, her voice a balm to every tattered fucking scar inside me. Every gaping hole that her leaving me had left behind. Briefly I allow my eyes to close and just savor the sound. “Take Lyric home. Tell Cora I’ll call her in just a bit.”

“You sure? I can stay,” he states, glaring at me with narrowed eyes I can feel on me but I don’t care. I’m watching the pink bundle, unable to see a face, and then Willow. Aching for her whiskey-colored eyes to land on me again. Finally
Bear
backs down, turning to her and saying quietly but loud enough for me to hear, “You call me if you need anything, and make sure you call me the minute you get on the road, eh? I don’t trust this guy.” He jerks a thumb at me. I yank the strap, removing it from his grasp. Staring him down unflinchingly. It’s true he has a few inches on me and I don’t feel quite as invincible as I used to now that I don’t have liquid or synthetic courage coursing through my veins, but I’m still a hot head and can still throw with the best of them. That will never change. I stare at him because I can’t bring myself to look at the baby he’s got in his other hand again. Asleep in her carrier, blissfully unaware of the tension surrounding her. Is that Willow’s daughter? Is she his? Is she mine? My heart breaks at both of those options. Everything in me is screaming to ask her but I’m terrified of the answer. So I don’t . . . yet.

“I’m sure. Go on. I’ll call you,” Willow soothes.

He nods and stalks off, reluctance evident as he glances back at us. Once he and the baby are in his obnoxiously large truck and pulling away, she turns to me. I swear to fuck the moment she does my world is right. This girl has always been my home. The music in my soul and the lyrics of my fucking heart. My rhythm. I used to tell her that. All the time. I stopped and there was nothing to remind her anymore. My actions spoke just as loud as the loss of my words.

“Wills,” I say, clearing the gruffness from my voice. She still hasn’t met my gaze, instead staring at my throat, the ink there, some of it new, most of it not. Willow takes a deep breath, for confidence? For strength? Both? As she lets it out, I take a step nearer, wanting to feel that exhale on my skin. I don’t even care how insane that seems, I need it.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me, Stone?” Her voice. That beautiful fucking voice. Melodic in its simplest form. I close my eyes briefly.

“It wasn’t easy,” I admit, feeling shaky. Standing there, like the addict that I am, staring at the high I am most desperate for, twitching with need. I just want to reach out and touch her. To trace my love on her skin like I used to. To sing her every fucking song I’d written for her in the sixteen months we’ve been apart. Never in my life have I needed something this badly. And I’ve needed. I’ve needed and longed for shit I had no business wanting. But her pull right now, just by standing here, is debilitating in its intensity. Reminding me that as dependent on the drugs, the alcohol, the other fucking women, the music—she was my true addiction. One no amount of time in rehab would cure me of.