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“So, she’s the ex.” The statement comes from Mya. “At least now I know what she looks like, so I can boob-punch her if I ever see her again.”

“You won’t see her again,” Thorin replies, his voice hard. “We’re locking the gates from now on, and no one but us will be allowed on the property. If we see her in town, well, ain’t nothing we can do about that.” When he notices that I’m stiff as a board, he places his hands on my neck, and starts rubbing out the tension. “You don’t have to worry about her, Reese.”

Easier said than done, but I plaster on a smile anyway. Though, it’s meek at best. “No, I know.” I glance down at Eli, and kiss his head. “So, what’s the deal with Carson?”

The question is meant to direct attention away from me, and all talk of Jessica, and if anyone notices how deliberate it is, they don’t mention it.

“You know I told you and Mya he went off the rails half way through the last tour? Well, looks like he’s back to his old tricks again. Not sure if he’s doing drugs, though.” Thorin looks at Fletch, who looks just as concerned. “Not that I’m aware,” he says. “Benji would have picked up on that shit real fast. You know how he feels about that kind of thing.”

When Mya and I remain quiet, Fletch explains, “Benji’s mom was a drug addict. She’s clean now, after he paid for her rehab, but when we were in high school, it was real bad. He cut her out of his life when we went on our first tour, but after we made it big, she asked for his help. Been as clean as a whistle for five years now. Needless to say, he knows the signs when someone is using, it’s how we found out about Carson.”

“That must’ve been hard for him,” I say. “I had no idea.”

“We kept it quiet,” Thorin says. “He spent most of his time at Fletch’s place in high school. His mom used to date other addicts, and sometimes even dealers when we were kids. They used him as a punching bag a time or two, at least until he got bigger and started punching back.”

“He lived with me for senior year,” Fletch adds, his expression contemplative. “Don’t think he would’ve made it through senior year if he hadn’t gotten out of that godforsaken trailer park.” Although the trailer park was demolished about five years ago, it was notorious at some point in time. Now, the land is occupied by a fancy retirement home.

“That’s rough,” Mya says. “No wonder he’s so shut off.”

“Just his way,” Thorin says. “But he’s a good guy.”

My heart hurts for Benji. I had no idea what his life was like, and I’m ashamed to admit I judged him when we were in high school. Guess none of us really knew each other back then, save for me and Thorin.

“And Carson? What’s his story?” I ask.

“Complete opposite,” Fletch says, looking between me and Mya. “Parents were rich as fuck, and didn’t really give a damn about him, or his younger sister. They were raised by the hired help, and then given a fat allowance to stay out of their parent’s way. His sister lives in New York, though, became a model and made her own way. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to Carson in over a year, though he won’t say why. Doesn’t talk about her much, either, so I guess there’s no love lost there.”

“So, out of the four of you, you and Thorin had it the best?” Mya asks. Fletch gives her a half-grin, and I swear, she’s making eyes at him.

“Yeah, Thor and I were the lucky ones. My parents were awesome, so were Mr. and Mrs. D.” He folds his muscular arms across his chest—build-wise, he could easily be Thorin’s double—and gives Mya his rockstar smile. Poor girl, those things are potent. His does nothing to me, but Thorin’s? Heh, fuggedaboutit. “What about you, Mya? What’s your story?”

“My parents are first-generation Portuguese-American, and they live in Newton, Massachusetts. I’m the third oldest of six kids, three brothers and two sisters, and have like, forty cousins because I have eighteen aunts and uncles. Typical Portuguese family, I guess. No sob story here.” That’s not exactly true, but I don’t blame Mya for keeping her cards close to her chest. Of course, I know how hard she had it growing up, she was the black sheep of her siblings, and could never do anything right in her parents’ eyes. To some extent, she’s a daddy’s girl, though, and like me, it’s her mother she doesn’t see eye-to-eye with. At all. I met her parents once in the four years we studied together, and to be honest, they’re intimidating people. Filthy rich, too. The only person who never gave Mya a hard time, except about her potty mouth, is her avó. “My craziest years were in college,” she gives me a pointed look. “But, we don’t kiss and tell, do we, Reese?” She winks.

I zip my lips, and pretend to throw away the key. “You’re my ride or die,” I tell her. And I mean it. Mya is loyal to her core, and the sister I never had.

“That really all there is to you?” Fletch asks. He stares at her a moment, and she shrugs. “Sorry to disappoint you, Fletch, but I’m nothing like your groupies.”

“I didn’t assume otherwise. I’d be bored by now if you were.”

“Gee, thanks, Fletch,” Mya scoffs. “Now that I know you find me entertaining, I’ll just sleep so much better tonight.” Hoo boy, the sarcasm with this one is on pointe today.

“You had no trouble sleeping last night.” His smile is so much of smug rockstar. My eyes widen, and I wave my hand between the two them. “You two, uh…”

“Got nekid,” Fetch finishes, all trace of humor gone. “Yes.”

Mya raises her brows. “No, dorkiss, we didn’t, and if we did, clearly you did something very wrong because I don’t remember anything.”

“You wound me.” Fletch clutches his chest, and are rockstars always so dramatic? “I thought we had something special, Mya.”

“In your head, rockstar. Only in your head.” Her annoyance is just an act, and as much as I can tell Fletch enjoys giving her shit, she enjoys giving it back to him just as much. Which has me thinking, perhaps a little fun will be good for her? God knows she had enough drama with Kyle, and if Fletch can help her forget about why she fled to Horseshoe Bay to begin with, am I going to stand in the way of that? I don’t think so. Thorin was right, they’re consenting adults, and if Fletch does end up hurting her, I’ve watched enough episodes of Bones to know how to commit and get away with the perfect murder. Thorin shakes his head, no doubt entertained by Mya and Fletch’s back-and-forth bickering, and winks at me before standing. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Ugh,” I groan. “Groceries. We need to get some of those.”

“Do they have a salon in town?” Mya asks me, finally diverting her bedroom eyes from Fletch. Thank the damn Pope and his popey people.

“There is actually, why?”

“I’m thinking a girl’s morning, my treat, and then we’ll hit the farmer’s market for some groceries.”