Home > Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4)

Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4)
Author: Claudia Y. Burgoa

 

Grace’s Prologue

 

 

I’ve known about the Aldridge brothers all my life. I’m best friends with the youngest, Beacon Kirk Aldridge. We’ve known each other since…well, I wasn’t even born when he moved to Mercer Island, Washington, where all of my family lives.

You could say we’ve been inseparable since the beginning of time. We’re talking about having embarrassing pictures of the two of us covered in finger paint, swimming in a kiddie pool, and taking naps together. There are videos of us playing music together. Well, it’s not music. It’s just noises a two-year-old—that’d be me—and a four-year-old can make at that age.

Summers together were the best, except for that one week when he had to visit his father. I missed him so much. He’d come back talking about his brothers. They were older. He wanted to bring them home so they could be a family. When I think about that boy asking, “But why can’t we live together?” my heart shrinks. He wanted them to be a part of his life. He looked up to them until they stopped going to Baker’s Creek; and it was just him.

Who are his brothers?

He likes to categorize them by assholiness. I’m not kidding. That’s how he does it. Number one is Henry. The guy owns one of the best hotel chains in the world. Number two is Hayes. He’s one of the best orthopedic doctors in the world. Number three is Pierce. He’s a lawyer—bloodsucking asshole. Number four is Vance. He’s a former Delta Force. Number five is Mills. He’s not really an asshole—or maybe he lost his title because his son, Arden, is super cute. We adore him.

Number six is Carter. He died when he was twenty-one. Carter was his favorite brother.

I’m not a fan of those guys—or his parents.

His dad dying and leaving a will where he forces his sons to spend eighteen months in Baker’s Creek was bad. You know what’s worse? Beacon doesn’t like nonsense. Good luck keeping him in one place for that long.

While he’s gone, I’m taking this time to find a boyfriend. Without the man around who likes to swat away any prospect like a fly, I might be able to finally meet Mr. Right.

 

 

Beacon’s Prologue

 

 

When I was twenty-five, I was named the Sexiest Man Alive.

Is it true? Nah, but there are things said about me that I don’t care to control. The rest—I keep a tight grip on what the media prints, publishes, and posts about me.

On the outside, I’m a free-spirited man who doesn’t give a shit about the world. That’s how I want everyone to see me. As I mentioned, I regulate the narrative of my life.

I’m also called one of the most influential figures of alternative rock. That is the one I care about. I work hard to be number one. I live for what I do.

Music is one of the most important and powerful things in the world.

Music is my life.

A life I fill with melodies, harmonies, and lyrics. Without it, my existence would be pointless.

She’s been a part of me since I can remember.

I started playing music as a young child. Although I composed and wrote lyrics when I was a teenager, my career didn’t take off until my friends and I formed Too Far from Grace.

We could go on and on about how my career began. But I’m sure you’re not here to hear about my epic band, our success, or how millions of fans idolize us.

You want to know more about me because I’m one of the six Aldridge brothers.

So let’s do this with style, unlike my brothers.

The name is Beacon.

One name. I’m a mononymous person, like Plato, Molière, Bono, Sting, and Beyoncé.

Most know me as the front man and lead guitarist of the punk rock, alternative band Too Far from Grace. I formed that band when I was twenty-one after graduating from Juilliard. My best friends and I planned it while growing up.

It was all set, except one of them said, “Thank you, but I play solo.”

Maybe she said, “I’m too cute to be with a bunch of disgusting boys.”

Nah, I’m kidding. Grace isn’t a diva. She’s my closest friend. It’s because of her and her mom that I found my love for music.

When we were forming the band, though, she was already a famous cellist getting requests to play worldwide. She’s the Bach of our time.

When you’re that famous, why would you want to play for an unknown band?

Also, she doesn’t like to deal with crowds. She’d rather be in a conservatory playing for a few stuffy people than in a stadium filled with thousands of fans chanting out her name.

I know her better than she knows herself. She’s a lot more than a friend. She’s my person. You know, the one who understands you, and without a doubt will be there for you no matter how crazy your ideas are. She’s that and more.

She claims I’m an attention seeker. I’d like to defer. If I wanted attention, I’d use my last name, mention my parents, or flaunt my grandfather’s legacy.

I’d write a tell-all book. I’m not thirty yet, but I know tons of juicy stuff that I could leak to the press.

Things that they don’t know about me: My grandfather is the late actor Kirk Fitzpatrick. My mother is the famous pop-star Janelle, who began her career at fifteen. She surrendered me to her parents before my second birthday.

My father never gave a shit about me after the paparazzi caught him with me, and he lost his wife and all of his mistresses.

I was raised on Mercer Island, Washington, but was born in LA.

The Decker-Colthurst family opened their arms to us and helped my grandparents raise me. Legend says that I was a handful.

Confession, I still am.

I had six brothers. One of them died, and the other five don’t care much about me.

What do I do with my free time? Well…some secrets keep many safe, and that’s how they’ll stay—secret.

Everyone is always wondering about my love life and the part of myself that I protect from everyone.

I don’t have any romantic relationships. The speculation that I’m dating some groupie that’s always hanging out with the band is false. Grace isn’t a groupie.

So, let’s be clear. This is the only statement I’ll make.

I chose the job.

If there’s something I learned at an early age, it is to prioritize.

You can judge me. I don’t care. I live by my values and put what matters the most before everything. Just remember, sometimes we only see what we want to see and let the illusions take over reality.

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Beacon

 

 

It’s the end of the last song—the second encore.

The audience sings the lyrics along with me.

I still remember when my fingers finally let you go.

When I lost the right to hold you,

The right to claim you,

The right to call you mine.

You’re close, and so far,

I lost the right to call you mine.

If only I could kiss you once,

One last time before I become the ghost of your past.

I direct the microphone toward the audience. Everyone knows this song, loves this song, and empathizes with my pain.

The pain of losing my first love, the love of my life.

My forever.

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