Page 60 of Rock On

He’d had over a hundred vehicles at the time of his death.

“What, uh, what did you do with them all?” I asked.

“He wanted most of them donated to specific people or charities. I still have his convertible Mustang and the Bentley. I’m saving the Mustang for River. If he doesn’t want it, then it’ll be worth a lot. And I like driving the Bentley.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she dipped her head. “It reminds me of him, but it’s also a dream when you’re behind the wheel.”

“It’s a sweet car,” I said. “It seems a shame to sell it.”

“It still smells faintly of his aftershave,” she whispered. “And it makes me miss him a tiny bit less.” Tears puddled in her eyes, and she absently swiped at them. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I reached across the table for one of her hands. “I miss him too. I’d like to drive it sometime. If that’s okay. It might remind me of him like it does you.”

“Sure.” She cocked her head. “So, is today your last day?”

I shook my head. “I’ve decided to stay longer.” I paused. “I don’t think we’re done yet, Harley. There’s still more to work through, and honestly, I’m more relaxed here than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” She lifted her beautiful blue eyes to meet mine. “We came here to heal, and it seems like that’s finally starting to happen. If you want to stay, I welcome it. I’ve missed you, Tommy.”

Holy shit.

Had she just said she missed me?

I didn’t know what to do with that, but it felt like a good sign.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I can’t linger today. Wynter is bringing River for a visit.”

“Where does he think you are?”

“Working.” She shrugged. “What else do you tell a three-year-old?”

“That’s a fair point.”

She cocked her head. “Have you met him?”

I hesitated. “I’ve been over at Z’s when he was there, but we’ve never spent any time together or been formally introduced. Do you do that with toddlers?”

She laughed. “Yes. Yes, you do. It teaches them manners, and also gives them a point of reference. He’s little, but he’s still a person with thoughts and feelings. He knows Uncle Z and Uncle Kellan and Uncle King, so why wouldn’t he know Uncle Tommy? We talk about you but keep it very basic, so he doesn’t ask why you haven’t been around.”

That was another failure on my part.

Carter had asked us to look out for and help Harley raise his son, and I hadn’t even tried. Not that Harley needed anything tangible—she’d inherited everything from Carter, and from what I could see, was a great mom. She also had her sister to help, along with Presley and the rest of my band.

Everyone but me.

Well, that ended now.

“Could I meet him?” I asked, clearing my throat a little.

“Sure. He and Wynter will be here around eleven. We’re going to walk on the beach, have lunch, and then maybe color or something until it’s time to go. I don’t want him to get the idea I’m in a prison or hospital. I want him to feel relaxed, like he’s visiting me at a hotel.”

“That’s seems about right.”

“Now that he’s older, he has Carter’s eyes,” she said softly. “So, prepare yourself. It can be gut-wrenching the first time you see it up close.”

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