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“Still a little wired. You go back to sleep. It’s okay.”
“Mmm-kay.”
He stroked her hair until her breathing deepened once more, then refocused on his phone. He forced himself not to go full-on insane as his screen filled with YouTube clips and speculation posts. Unable to stop himself, he fell down a rabbit hole of tweets and blogs until his heart was racing.
When he found the interview clip, he had to listen to it. His stupid earbuds were packed in his bag. Carefully, he wiggled out from beneath Margo. She’d been asleep long enough that she barely stirred. Tucking a pillow next to her was just enough to get her to wind around it and settle once more.
He padded across the room and into the bathroom.
“Was what you said true? You’re related to Simon Kagan, the lead singer of Oblivion?”
The punk’s eyebrow spiked. “Yeah. We’re not close. I’m sure he’s a lovely guy, but the only thing we really have in common is our voice. Well, sort of. I got a few extra octaves and the better looks, yeah?”
The woman laughed. “And British blood? Simon Kagan is distinctly American.”
“We don’t hold that against him too much, right?” Ian’s voice was smooth, but distinctly British. Not the cockney accent Simon was used to hearing in the city, but something else.
“You weren’t born in America?”
He smiled and gave her a wink. “My mum was American, but I was born here. Smethwick boy, but London has my heart. I moved here as soon as I could.”
Mother? Simon’s fingers shook around the phone. His mother? Fuck, was she still alive?
His gut twisted and his vision went fuzzy again. He didn’t think of her much. For all he knew, she’d died in a fucking gutter. She’d left him in that shit-box of a condemned building with his father to do what? Go off and live in England? What the flying fuck?
Who went from Carson to England?
The interview was a quick one and wrapped up a moment later. The interviewer wished him luck on moving up in the competition. Because of course, he was a finalist.
Simon clicked off that interview and did an internet search on him. How had he never heard of him before? The kid hadn’t dropped from the sky singing. But the deeper Simon dived, the less he found.
If he was smart, he’d wait for Li to find him. She was a fucking ninja.
But he didn’t want to wait.
Couldn’t wait.
He followed Ian’s name through public records and found two addresses in London itself. One was within walking distance of the Tube. He glanced at the time on his phone and groaned. It was nearly three in the morning.
But he couldn’t put this off. Not after he knew this guy was out there.
Simon dragged on his jeans and a shirt from his bag before stuffing his feet in his boots. He paused at the end of the bed. Margo was curled under the blankets, her hand reaching out for him even in sleep.
His chest ached as he rubbed his jaw.
But then he was grabbing his jacket off the chair and his keycard off the dresser before closing the door quietly behind him.
He should wait.
He should do a lot of things.
But he couldn’t.
Five
Something was scraping the fuck out of the inside of my brain.
I’d stumbled into bed sometime ago. Pretty sure I hadn’t been alone. And I wasn’t alone now, if the flowing blond hair draped over my chest was any indication.
