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“Why would that be about Pick? It was about a girl.”
“You know...I mean, don’t you know?” She turned to me, looking lost. “Doesn’t everyone know?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I doubt he went to the same school as us. Maybe he doesn’t know.”
Asher waved his hands. “Will someone please explain to me what you’re talking about? What don’t I know?”
“I’m sorry.” Felicity cringed. “It’s just...well, Pick was abandoned at the hospital by his mother when he was born. He spent his entire life in foster care. We, uh, Knox and I were younger than him in school, but everyone knew about it.”
Mouth falling open, Asher gaped at her. The shock on his face told us this was news to him.
Felicity sent me a worried glance before turning back to him. “You seriously didn’t know about that?”
Asher continued to look dazed. Then he finally shook his head and gave a distracted, “No. I...I had no idea.”
“Then who was the song about?”
“What?” He glanced at her sharply. “No one. I just...I made it up.” Scrubbing at the back of his head, he glanced at his wrist, which did not contain a watch. “Shit. I’m late for a...thing. I gotta go. See you.”
As he spun away and hurried off, Felicity stared after him before turning to me. “He didn’t just make that song up, did he?”
“Doubt it.”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, now I’m really curious who it was about. Do you think that happened to him too? His mom left him at the hospital when he was born? That would be totally wicked.”
I opened my mouth to say maybe when I remembered the first night I’d met Asher. “His dad killed his mom,” I blurted.
She whirled to me. “What?”
“The first night I worked with him, he asked me if I knew a
guy from prison. I knew who he was talking about and that the guy was in there for killing his wife. Asher told me it was his dad.”
She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy...oh my God. Poor Asher. I had no idea.”
“Yeah.” I glanced after the singer. “I guess we all have fucked-up families. Just fucked up in different ways.”
Compassion filled her gaze. She reached for my arm as if she wanted to squeeze it, but at the last second, she changed her mind and dropped her hand. After clearing her throat, she asked, “Ready to go?”
I nodded and followed her out. Rocket was nowhere to be seen, but I still felt uneasy. I waited until we reached the apartment and Felicity had unlocked the front door before I said, “That drummer in Asher’s band. Rock. That was my brother Rocket.”
“Wha...what?” Felicity whirled around and gaped at me. When I just watched her, she threw her hands into the air. “Oh my God, why didn’t you say something before?”
I ushered her the rest of the way inside, and once we were both in, I shut the door at my back. “I didn’t know what to say. He was...different.”
“Different?” she repeated, frowning.
“He wasn’t at all concerned about catching up on old times. He seemed more obsessed about some vendetta he has against the Bainbridge family.”
“The...” She shook her head. “Excuse me?”
“He tried to recruit me into his cause. Said they all needed to pay for what they did to Mercy. What they did to me. For how they burned down our house.” When her eyebrows lifted at that, I had to ask, “Was that fire arson?”
“I...I...” she sputtered, before shaking her head. “There were rumors, of course. People came and questioned all of us, but...no, I don’t…I don’t think they ever decided it was arson.” Concern filled her eyes. “Why? Do you think one of the Bainbridges did it? That they killed half your family? Bentley?”
I studied her a second before shaking my head. “No,” I said. “I think an eighteen-year-old boy filled with too much hate was making up reasons to justify his resentment.”
Her shoulders fell, revealing her relief. But then a new hint of caution filled her gaze. “And you’re not filled with that same hatred?”
