“Where'd you learn how to punch like that?”
“I picked up a few things in the ten years since you abandoned me.” Molly rubbed her sore knuckles.
“Molly, I'm—”
“Don't you dare.” She balled her fists back up. Was she going to punch me for trying to apologize? “You don't get to do that. You can't just roll into town without a word, say you’re sorry and expect everything to be forgiven.”
“This wasn't the way I was hoping this would go.” I licked the blood off my teeth and wiped my mouth and light beard again.
“We don't always get what we want, do we?” Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “I see you've stayed busy.” Her eyes flicked down at the thong in my fist.
“These aren’t mine.” I sighed. No shit. “I mean these aren’t what you think—”
I wish I wasn’t so hung over. This looked much worse than it was. The redhead at the party stuffed them into my pocket and said they were the key to her bedroom. I left shortly after that. I never made it into the house, let alone her bedroom. I definitely never touched her.
“You know what? I don’t even want to know.”
Fuck!
There was no way Molly would believe what really happened. I was a rock star with all the trappings—fans, groupies, the whole nine yards...
Hell, I wouldn't believe me.
What no one knew was that getting underwear thrown at me was a surprisingly common occurrence. Sometimes it didn't even happen while I was on stage. There's another side to fame that no one gives a shit about.
The sad, honest truth was that I hadn't had sex with anyone in a long time.
I looked around for a trash can and saw one near where my bike was parked, but I wasn't ready to leave things like this with Molly. I shoved the panties back into my pocket.
What else could I do? I wasn't about to throw them on the lawn of an elementary school, especially not one named after her dead brother.
“The new school looks nice.” I began remembering how I got here. This was my first stop when I came into town last night. I heard the renovations were finally finished and I had to see it with my own eyes.
“Anonymous donation. It turns out there are nice, thoughtful people in the world after all.”
“Yeah… I’m sorry to hear about Matt.”
“Don’t. Just…” Molly took a deep breath and exhaled. “I want you to go, Luke.”
“Molly. Wait a second.” I took a step in and grabbed her arms. Her perfume wafted up between us. She smelled like heaven. Now that she was so close, it was hard to stop myself from hugging her like when we were kids.
If I did that I'd never be able to let her go.
Why couldn't we have that again?
I could see the spark in her eyes and it wasn't just because I was half naked. I knew those looks. I saw them all the time from girls that only saw me as a rock star or as a ripped piece of meat.
Molly's was different.
Yeah, I could feel her pulse and breath racing. I knew she was still attracted to me, but there was so much more in those brown eyes. There was pissed off anger and pain. And beyond that there was something else.
There was still a glimmer of the girl I used to know back before it all fell to shit.
And I could never truly give up on that girl. Ever.
Her expression softened and her eyes turned up, then closed. She was allowing herself to just feel. So much time had passed, but what we had was truly special. You couldn’t just recover from something like that.
It stayed with you for the rest of your life.
“A day hasn’t gone by where I didn’t think about you.” The distance between us evaporated like boiling water. “I’m so sorry I had to leave.”
“This time don't come back.” Molly pulled her arms away at the last moment and turned her back on me. “I've moved on.”
Molly walked away from me.
Chapter 2
Richard
“Greetings, Master King. I'll be your driver for the duration of your stay in Caldwell Hope.” The driver introduced himself once I stepped out of the open door.
I nodded in acknowledgment, and he immediately began loading my luggage from my jet into the short white limo.
Even through my dark sunglasses, my eyes needed a moment to adjust against the midday glare that boiled off the runway's tarmac. The cloudless sun turned my throbbing hangover into a stabbing spike.
I desperately needed coffee.
I snapped open the top button of my collared shirt. It was hot in a way that only the southwestern states got in late spring. It was probably going to be a scorcher of a summer.
Fortunately I wouldn't be here long enough to find out.
My driver finished with the luggage, then straightened his posture and opened the limo door for me. He thoughtfully added, “Welcome home, Sir.”
“Home,” I rolled the word around in my mouth like an expensive wine that was too bitter for my palate. Not for me. Not anymore.
Once this meeting with my father and brother was finished, Caldwell Hope, would go back to being a place I rarely thought about and never visited.
The lovely British flight attendant leaned against the doorway wearing only a towel and a satisfied smile. My white Panama hat hung limply in her hand. She was a talented girl and was just what I needed to make the trip back here tolerable.
I gave her an easy smile and a kiss on the cheek, then took the hat and put it on. That was better. I straightened my vest and brushed down my tailored pants, then stepped into the air conditioned car. With a good hat and a nice watch I could be buck naked and still feel comfortable.
“Are you from around here, James?” I asked the chauffeur. He was surprisingly young. I was thirty-one, and this was the first time I'd ever had a driver who was younger than me.
“Yes, Sir. Born and raised.”
“Fantastic. Do you know the way to the Village Bean? I need a coffee.” There was no way I was going to deal with whatever my father had in store for us without some caffeine to clear my head. “Call me Richard. I get enough 'Sirs' at the office.”
“I'm sorry, S-” James had to catch himself as it probably went against everything he'd been taught. “The Village Bean closed about ten years ago I believe. I know another place that's just as good, if you'd like.”
Ten years? Had I really been gone that long? I quickly did the math and realized it was actually longer than that.
What else had changed?
I agreed and James drove us into town. My quiet, little prison had apparently flourished over the years and become quite the vacation spot. The familiar low mountains framed the downtown strip, but almost everything else had changed or been updated.
Bouquets of pink and white flowers hung in the rough-hewn brick buildings that connected several trendy looking shops. The whole area, down to the signage, had a unified, quaint theme about it.
It had certainly grown more charming in my absence.
We slowed to a stop outside a record store. I was about to ask him about it when I spotted the A-shaped sign on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Black Rocket Records,” the sign said.
Beneath that it bragged, “We dare you to find a better damn cup of coffee.”