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  Okay. That was a goddamned lie. I actually felt like I’d been run over by a Freightliner. But I wasn’t about to let a few assholes keep me down.

  I raked a hand over my tender head and looked around. “You bring me clothes?”

  He tossed a duffle on the bed. “Yep.”

  “Thank God. The last three days my ass has been playing peek-a-boo with the nurses. Poor things didn’t know what to do with themselves.”

  I mean, seriously, I might as well have gone buck for all the good this ridiculous gown did me.

  I turned and started pulling clean clothes out of the bag, talking to Baz over my shoulder as I did. “The worst part of the whole bit was bein’ out of commission. Now that shit was painful. All that deliciousness walking in and out of here, doting on me, and not being able to do a damned thing about it.” I shot him a wink. “Tragic.”

  Baz scoffed. “I would have thought that ass kickin’ might have taught you a lesson or two. Hope that chick was worth it.”

  Yeah, no chick was worth that shit. Especially not one that’d been lying through her teeth when I’d asked her square about the ring she was sporting on her finger. Her grandma’s, my ass.

  I forced a wide grin, fighting the bit of bitterness wanting to take root in my chest. “She was a straight ten on the crazy/hot matrix. Men just don’t have the capacity to resist that kind of disaster.”

  Baz shook his head. “Whatever, dude, you just go on tellin’ yourself that.”

  Something somber filtered into the room, and I paused, setting my favorite tee down on the bed. I pushed a weighted breath from my lungs. “I fucked up, man. I’m sorry. Last thing I wanted was to let you guys down.”

  Sunder was supposed to be hitting the studio next week, which was why we were in Savannah in the first place. Three years ago, I’d purchased a big old house here. My home away from home. A quiet place to take a break from the insane pace of Los Angeles. Figured I’d need a killer pad where I could kick back and entertain the ladies whenever I was in town, considering this was going to be Baz’s home base. He and his wife, Shea, had shacked up here permanently since this was where they wanted to raise their kids.

  Though it’d been a long time coming, Baz had officially stepped down from the band last year, and his baby brother, Austin, had stepped up to take his place as lead.

  Baz had bought our manager’s place out on Tybee Island. The mansion was already equipped with a kickass recording studio, so it only made sense Baz would be the one to produce our next album rather than standing out front.

  Yeah, he wanted out of the limelight and tours, far away from the chaos and revelry that surrounded this crazy lifestyle, but that didn’t mean he wanted distance from the music. Least of all, distance from us—this awesome, mismatched family that had come together back when we were nothin’ but punk teenagers and somehow had managed to create something great.

  Each of us had gotten a place out here in Savannah for the months we spent recording.

  Baz cocked his head like he was trying to get a read on me while a wave of guilt hit me hard.

  It was no secret Sunder had endured a whole ton of shit. We’d barely made it through addictions and jail sentences and the death of our drummer, Mark. The whole world had pretty much been waiting on the final pin to drop and the threads that held us together to finally completely unravel. Truth of the matter was, the fate of Sunder had been in limbo for a whole lot of years.

  Now that things were finally coming together again? I’d thrown in yet another wrench, and I was out of commission for at least six weeks.

  Regret curled in my stomach.

  Me fucking up the band hadn’t exactly been on the agenda.

  Baz exhaled heavily. “I know, Ash. I know. But you gotta know you scared the hell out of us. Your sister’s been beside herself. Our girls are freaking the hell out, and all the guys want to go hunt the motherfuckers down. You and I both know that’s the last thing the band needs. Can’t afford more trouble, man. One of these times, you’re not gonna be so lucky, and I’m gonna wake up to a call I don’t want to get. This was bad enough.”

  Lucky.

  A strange sense twisted through me. A flicker of a memory.

  Chocolate eyes. Soft, soft touch. Peaches.

  Guess maybe that concussion had fucked up my mind worse than I’d thought.

  I blinked through it, forced out the words, “Here on out, I’ll be more careful. Promise you.”

  He and I both knew that was a whole ton easier said than done.

  I chose to live my life like every day might be my last.

  Reckless.

  I embraced the chaos and the nonstop women and the endless nights.

  Live fast and die hard.

  Didn’t want it any other way.

  My devotion? It was wholly reserved for this family, and this family only. The boys and the band. Their wives and their kids. My baby sister.

  Other than that?

  All I wanted from each day was a little fun. To reach out and take all the pleasure the world had to give. Embrace it instead of laying all my days to waste, without the morbid consequence of getting tied down.

  I’d leave that bullshit for my brothers.

  As far as I was concerned? That was safer than getting a taste of peace and having it stripped away. Only fools put themselves on the line. Fell in love like it could last. Shouldered the responsibility and burden before it became all too clear they couldn’t stand up under the weight.

  Learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.

  A fist rapped on the open door. I turned to find our drummer and my roommate, Zee, standing there. “Lyrik and Austin have the Suburban idling out front. You ready to hit it?”

  “Yeah. Just let me change real quick. Unless one of you assholes wants to give me a sponge bath before I go?” I tossed out the tease, hoping to lighten the mood. Hated I was the one responsible for making it heavy.

  That shit was totally not my thing.

  But I could see the worry written all over their faces as they wondered what I was going to do now. Because like Baz had said about the boys—right about now retaliation was sounding really damned good.

  I inclined my head toward the door. A clear request for them to step out.

  A scoff shot from Baz’s nose. “Like we haven’t seen your naked ass a million times? Now, you’re gonna get shy?”

  “Just need a minute, man.”

  Truth was, I didn’t want either of them to see the mess hiding beneath this gown.

  Baz frowned before he nodded like he got it. They both stepped out to give me some privacy.

  I changed slowly, trying not to look at the bruises covering every inch of my body, the stitches tying up the cuts, the big bandage covering the staples from the surgery on the lower left side of my abdomen.

  Proof I wasn’t invincible.

  Funny how I’d refused to think twice about the end until the end was staring me in the face.

  A couple minutes later, Baz clicked open the door. “You good?”

  “Yup.”

  He and Zee helped me gather my things then Baz jutted his chin to the wheelchair. “You sure you don’t need that? One of these nurses who has been ‘doting’ on you is bound to have a fit.”

  I laughed. “Hell no. Can’t keep a good man down.”

  Zee cracked up. “Good? I’m thinking there are probably a few thousand ladies scattered around the world who would be eager to call you something other than good.”

  I rocked my hips, the motion not quite as enthusiastic as normal. “You’re right, man, they would all be claiming I’m the best.”

  He shook his head, muttered under his breath, “Always such an asshole.” Of course he couldn’t hide the smile climbing to his face.

  I hobbled my way down the hall and to the elevator, letting the guys lead me out. It was just the way they were. Always there. Standing at my side. Taking up my back.

  Automatic doors slid open as we headed throu
gh the exit, the bright Savannah sun blinding as I stepped out into the light for the first time in three days.

  I breathed in the hot, humid air.

  A swell of gratitude grew in my gut.

  The fact I had another day to live.

  This crazy life to embrace.

  A thick intensity wrapped me whole.

  Energy shimmered through the air.

  The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end.

  Not like they did the other night. But in a different kind of awareness.

  I turned my gaze to the small silver SUV idling across the lot and the big chocolate eyes that stared back at me. Even through the window, there was no mistaking them.

  So fucking familiar.

  My chest tightened so painfully it almost felt good.

  “Let’s get you out of here.” My attention slid to Baz as he opened the front passenger door. I nodded and glanced back at the car. Couldn’t kick the fascination drawing me that way.

  Because whoever she was?

  There was no question she saved my life.

  And that was a debt I didn’t have the first clue how to repay.

  four

  Willow

  The harsh Savannah sun lit up the bank of windows that overlooked the street running the front of my tiny store.

  Not a soul had come through the door for the entire day, which was a huge part of the problem, but I couldn’t help but find comfort in the solitude.

  From where she was in the back office, I could barely discern the soft, hushed movements of Emily as she worked. The steady clack, clack, clack of the keyboard, a muted slide of metal as the file cabinet opened and closed, the drone of an obsolete fan.

  Humidity draped the dusty atmosphere, the motes thick and sluggish as they danced through beams of light that sliced through the windows. The old swamp cooler whirred, doing its best to compensate, but not coming close to making a dent in the heat.

  A calm quiet filled the space, broken only by the soothing sound of sandpaper as I ran it over the wood again and again.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Revealing the beauty hidden underneath.

  Behind the counter, which was painted a rustic teal, I sat hunched over the antique piece I’d found abandoned beside a dumpster. Left like rotted garbage without worth.

  It was almost funny how I found my greatest solace in broken-down relics that had been left for decay. But my mama—she’d taught me how to recognize the value in discarded objects. To find what was concealed by peeling paint and splintered cracks.

  To look deeper than the surface.

  Hit with a wave of sorrow, my chest clenched painfully. Searching deeper had been what I’d done all my life. Believing the best in the ones I loved.

  Pouring out my support and encouragement.

  My faith.

  Bit by bit, that faith had been chipped away.

  For a beat, I mashed my eyes closed against the assault of memories. My teeth gritted, and I increased the pressure against the grains of the wood, rubbing the corrupted away to expose the good underneath.

  Finding the beauty I knew.

  The beauty I trusted.

  I got lost in it, entranced in my work. So engrossed I gasped when the bell above the door jingled. Startled, my head jerked up and my heart sped—an erratic pound against my ribs.

  My eyes squinted against the blinding rays of late-afternoon sun, which spilled in like a flash flood behind the man who suddenly took up the entirety of my doorway.

  He was cast in shadows.

  A darkened silhouette of mystery backlit by a burning ring of flames.

  Fire.

  I could feel it sparking in the air. Energy and power and heat.

  Just as real as the humidity that clung to my sweat drenched skin.

  And I knew.

  I knew with the way my pulse stuttered and a prick of fear needled across my flesh that this was the man I hadn’t been able to rid from my mind for the last week. The one who’d stolen my sleep. The memory of his battered face had left me with a deep-rooted sense of worry and the terrifying beauty beneath had overwhelmed me with an intense sense of intrigue.

  Finally, he took a single step forward.

  Fully exposing himself.

  My breath got locked somewhere in the back of my throat, and that fear kicked up an extra notch, just as a rush of attraction slipped like liquid steel through my veins.

  I didn’t move. I just froze with my hand still clutching the sandpaper brick as I stared.

  As if he were a piece of morbid art.

  A statue of broken stone.

  Captivating.

  Magnetic.

  Imposing.

  Throat dry, my eyes wandered. Like a primal need spurred me to search out his wounds. Tracing the line of stitches running just beneath his eye, the deep bruises surrounding it, the lacerations and discolorations that marred the intricate riddle of ink woven like a puzzle on his strong, strong arms.

  Heat flared.

  Thinking it felt like a sin, but it seemed the only thing the inflicted trauma had managed was to make him appear like a conquering warrior who’d returned home from battle.

  Every sculpted inch of his big body bristled with strength. The rippling, defined muscle was only accentuated by the black tee, which stretched tight over his wide, wide chest.

  I’d seen him from a distance. In that moment, when I’d finally succumbed to the need to see him again, I’d convinced myself I just needed to know he was okay. Because God knew, this man had affected me some way, seeing him there, fractured and broken.

  Seeing him now?

  It was overwhelming.

  The intensity that swirled around us as he stood there, those blue eyes taking me in as if he were searching me the same.

  Then he tipped me the cockiest smirk I’d ever seen.

  Dimples peeked out from both of his cheeks, deep and dancing with the promise of mischief. In that second, he almost looked…cute. No doubt, that made him a hundred times more dangerous than I’d ever imagined.

  “Hey there, darlin’.” His voice was just as deep as those dimples. Rough and raw and skating my skin like a rugged caress.

  What was wrong with me? This wasn’t me. But I knew where it was bred. This crazy connection I felt to a man simply because I’d stumbled upon his darkest hour. Like I’d become a partner to him. Cared for him in a moment we never should have shared.

  I gulped, slowly stood, and attempted to brush some of the dust and debris from my work clothes. My smile was timid as I tentatively rounded the counter.

  “You’re here.” It wobbled from my mouth on a breathy whisper.

  He stretched his arms out to the sides, a full-blown smirk taking hold, tone taking on an edge of playfulness. “What? Don’t tell me you aren’t excited to see me. I mean, I’m kinda unforgettable and I figured by now you’d be missin’ me. So here I am.”

  He tossed it out like a casual tease. Just by that grin, I would guess easy-going to be his normal MO if the situation he’d found himself in wasn’t so serious.

  His tone deepened. “Tell me you didn’t miss me.”

  I gulped.

  Apparently, his ego was about as big as the rest of him.

  He must have sensed my struggling, because that smirk slipped and grew into something genuine, dipping into a smile that tugged at me from all sides. “I’m Ash. Ash Evans.”

  I knew his name. The policeman had used it when he’d questioned me, asking what I knew and any information I could give, which had been about zero, considering I’d never seen the man before in my life.

  “I’m Willow. Willow Langston.” It came off unnerved. Because that was the way this boy made me. Shaky and shy.

  His head cocked to the side and his grin only grew, those eyes roving fast, up and down my body. As if he were attempting to find something hidden inside me.

  “It’s nice to officially meet you, Willow. Seems I owe you a thank you or an apology
or maybe both.”

  I wrung my hands together. “You don’t need to thank me. I did what anyone else would have done. I’m just glad to see you standing.”

  He chuckled, though it sounded with disbelief. “Don’t owe you a thank you? I owe you a whole lot more than just a thank you. You saved my life.”

  My brow pinched. “No…I…I was just coming to work. If it hadn’t have been me, someone else would have found you.”

  “Yeah, and they might have been a second too late. Or maybe they would have looked the other way. It doesn’t matter that it could have been someone else. Only thing that matters to me is that it was you.”

  Energy spun. Filling up the space. I nodded slowly. “Okay, then, you’re welcome.”

  Laughter shocked me as it bounded through the dense air—sudden and loud and free.

  As if he were astounded by the simplicity of my statement. As if he thought it were the cutest thing he’d ever heard. The air surrounding him went light, a stark, jarring contradiction to the fierceness he ushered in moments before.

  My head spun and that thunder stampeded in my heart.

  “Oh no, Willow. Here I was, acting the asshole, mucking up the front of your pretty store, lying out there like a piece of trash for you to find in the morning. Pretty sure I might have derailed whatever plans you had for the day. Might have turned your stomach, too, because that shit wasn’t pretty. I’m here to make it up to you. Anything you want. Name it, and it’s yours.”

  Wow.

  “That’s an awful lofty promise you’re making there, Mr. Evans.”

  “A promise I intend to keep.”

  My stomach tightened. I didn’t know this guy. But what I did know? He was so much more than I could handle. Everything already felt fragile and brittle. Ready to crack. And here he was, shaking me up more.

  “Like I said, it’s not necessary.” My refusal felt like nothing less than a defense.

  His head tipped and his teeth raked across the scab on his bottom lip. Dark blond hair flopped to the side. Hair that was shaved on both sides and longer on top. It only added to the vibe that he was some kind of glorious avenger with a wicked smile and a wayward tongue.