Page 67 of Rebel

“My family was huge, so they really didn’t care about what I did. They were probably happy I was gone, but my little sister followed me some years later.”

“Friends?” she asks, popping a slice of apple into her mouth as she watches me.

I shrug and sip my coffee, not wanting to tell her the truth—none of them are alive to care anymore.

“So you always wanted to be in a band?” she inquires as she eats.

“Pretty much. I was in one all the way through high school. Music was my safe place. It made me happy and challenged me. For someone who was never good at anything, it was heaven,” I tell her honestly.

“I get that. What was your band’s name?”

Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze. “Ruination.”

“Are they still together?” I know she’s being nice, wanting to know my past, but I can’t.

“Not anymore. What about you?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

“Oh, I was pretty good in school and never really got into trouble. I had to look after my mom so I couldn’t. She needed me,” she says. “I had to grow up pretty quickly. I got used to paying bills, and I studied after I gave my mom her meds. On the weekends, I’d take her to treatments. She was okay at the beginning, but as time went on, she depended on me more and more, and I guess I gave up on my dreams. I graduated, and unlike everyone else, I stayed right where they left me. I was her caretaker, and sometimes, I resented it. I wanted to pursue my dreams, but she needed me. I wouldn’t let her spend years suffering alone, so I stayed until the day she died. It’s horrible, but part of me was relieved. She was in so much pain, and I was heartbroken when she passed, but I couldn’t deal with her struggling anymore, and when she was gone, the house was empty, and all the reasons I stayed were just gone. Everything was a reminder, so I left.”

“Beck,” I murmur, taking her hand. “You are an amazing daughter. I’m sure your mom was so thankful to have you. She would be so proud of you now, chasing your dream.”

“I hope so.” She smiles up at me softly, and my heart skips a beat.

I suddenly realize I could easily fall in love with a woman like Beck Danvers.

Her smile disappears as she looks at me. “What?” she asks.

“I’m just very glad you decided to follow your dream,” I tell her honestly, hoping she reads between the lines.

Her eyes meet mine, and when I lean down, needing to kiss her more than I need my next breath, her eyes shut.

We jerk apart at a bang though, the moment broken.

We turn to see a red-eyed, disheveled Chase swaying in the doorway. “What happened?” he croaks.

I turn back to Beck, and both of us burst into laughter.

THIRTY-TWO

Kolton and Chase look like death as they nurse their coffees, so when one of the phones rings, they both jump and then groan, clutching their heads. Trav rolls his eyes and grabs it, hitting speaker.

“Hey, Rachel.”

“Don’t forget, tonight is the yearly award show you agreed to go to.”

“We aren’t even entered.” Chase frowns. “We could sleep.”

“No, but you are going to show support,” Rachel snaps. “You agreed that you are going. Stylists will be there two hours before. Be nice.” She huffs, clearly knowing them too well.

“What about Beck?” Kolton asks softly.

“Oh, well, we don’t have a ticket for her,” Rachel replies, sounding embarrassed.

“It’s okay.” I shrug.

“No, she’s part of the band.” Kolton frowns. “We all go or not at all.”

There’s silence for a moment. “Fine, let me hang my ass by trying to get her in and find a stylist.” She hangs up, and my eyebrows rise.

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