Page 52 of One More Song

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“But there is something. Did your friend Ember ever mention that the man was abusive?”

Ice pricks at the back of my neck. “No. Why?”

“She was admitted to the hospital with a spiral fracture, and a few other injuries that suggested abuse. Hamilton was the one who brought her in. He was questioned, but no charges were laid.”

“I’ll kill the bastard.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

I breathe in a few steady breaths and try to get my anger under control. But the thought of that asshole putting his hands on Ember stirs a violence inside me I’ve never felt before.

“Anything else?”

“He had a DUI when he was eighteen, but other than that, no. I’m sorry.”

“Can you win this case?” I ask her.

She sighs. “Because the child has been with the mother this entire time, we have a good chance.”

I hear the hesitation in her voice. “But?”

“Her drug charge will hurt her. Plus, there was never a formal agreement before.”

“Just do whatever you need to do to make sure that bastard doesn’t win.”

When I end the call, I fall back into bed and stare up at the ceiling.

I’d been a selfish prick earlier, feeling sorry for myself. Ember may not want my help, but she’ll damn well get it.

My past isn’t squeaky clean - I’ve fucked up more times than I can count - but I’ve never laid a hand on a woman and I sure as hell never will.

Mitch may be Cadence’s father, but I know there’s more to him than he’s letting on. And I’m not going to sit back and let him take away Ember’s happiness with unfair threats. I may not have always been the man I needed to be - but we all deserve a second chance.

This is mine.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ember

The guys are packingup their gear when I get home from my morning shift at the grocery store. I try my best to be polite and paste a smile on my face when Dusky makes a joke, but there’s tension in the air.

Ash watches me from a distance, those stormy eyes darker than normal. But when he follows me into the kitchen, I make myself busy, pulling out eggs and flour to make a chicken pot pie for dinner.

“I need to talk to you.” He leans against the counter, arms crossed.

“Then talk.” I crack an egg, then start measuring flour.

His hand rests on my arm, and he gently pulls me toward him.

“Ash, don’t.”

“Tell me about your arm.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

“Your arm. How did you break it?”

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