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I pocketed my cell phone and watched Mom and Eli for another couple of minutes. All week, she’d been trying. I didn’t know whether it was the aftermath of finding Becca in the house watching Eli, the shame of having me pick her up from the seedy motel, or not being there to get Eli from pre-K, but Mom was trying.
“Mom,” I said, and she looked up from the floor where she was playing blocks with Eli, who was bathed and already in his pajamas. “Can we talk?”
She smiled, whispering something to my brother, and came over to me. “What is it?”
“I need to go out for a little while. Are you going to be okay putting him to bed?” My eyes bored into hers, asking a silent question.
“Evan, really, I’m his mother. I think I’m capable of putting him to bed.”
“Yeah, well, Mellie isn’t around to check in on you both. If it’s going to be a problem, I can stay.”
“Go. Ten more minutes and then it’s bedtime. I have an early shift at the store tomorrow, so I’ll be hitting the sack early myself.”
Her mood swings were exhausting but reaching her latest lows had flipped a switch. I didn’t expect it to last long, but I’d take it.
“Eli,” I called over to him. “I’m going out, but I’ll be back later, okay? And I’ll be here in the morning to take you to pre-K.”
“Okay,” he replied, not even looking up from his construction.
“I have my cell. Any problems, you call me.”
“Evan.” Mom laid her hand on my arm. “I’ve got this. I know we need to pull together while Mellie’s out of town, so I’m trying. I’m going to try.”
“Okay.” I glanced at her and Eli, unsure if I was doing the right thing. Before I knew it, I strolled over to Eli and scooped him up into my arms. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hey, Ev. I’m getting sleepsy.” He yawned as if on cue.
“I know, bud. Listen, I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours. Mellie is out of town, remember?” He nodded. “So if you need anything, if you wake up and get scared, or need to talk, you call me, okay? My number is on the notepad next to the phone, just like I showed you. Okay?”
“I ’member.” His arms curled around my neck, hugging me tightly, and part of me wanted to stay. To tell Mom we didn’t need her and that I could take care of him. But Eli needed his mom. He needed her to step up, and if I didn’t give her the space to do it, she never would.
“Come on, baby.” Mom took him from me. “Let’s get you tucked in.”
Eli went to her willingly, and I watched her carry him down the hall to his bedroom before I shrugged into my leather jacket and left the house. Locking the door behind me, I kept telling myself it was only a couple of hours.
* * *
I found her the second I stepped into Teller’s. She was over at the bar, talking to the bartender.
It had taken me ten minutes to drive and another five to find somewhere to park. Malachi wasn’t wrong. It pulled the crowds, but I didn’t recognize anyone except Becca.
Heat flashed through me at the sight of her dressed in an oversized black sweater that hung low on her shoulders, but it quickly turned to irritation when I saw it was all she was wearing. It dipped over her thighs, giving way to smooth, toned legs and black boots. Fuck. Was she trying to draw attention to herself? She looked at home, seated at the bar, chatting with a tall guy wearing black leather wristbands and gauges in his ears. Since he was a bartender, I tried to remember Malachi’s words about Teller’s staff being good guys and ignore my bolt of jealousy. They were only talking.
The room was a big rectangle with a stage at one end and a long bar at the other. Down one side was a row of wooden booths with dirty brown leather seats. It reminded me of a huge barn—all wooden rafters and paneling—but instead of farming tools, rock memorabilia decorated the walls. Posters, framed records, and newspaper cuttings, even the odd signed guitar adorned every inch of the space. Four wooden pillars marked the edges of what I assumed was a dance floor, but it was impossible to tell with the sheer amount of bodies crammed into the space. Dudes rocking mohawks, piercings in every visible piece of facial skin. Girls with brightly colored hair and tattoos that would give Scarlett a run for her money huddled in groups, getting as close to the stage as possible. When I looked back over at Becca, she had spun her stool out to face the stage as if she was a regular and that seat was saved especially for her. At least she wasn’t in the thick of it tonight like Malachi said she was on Thursday. I didn’t like the idea of her in there among all those guys at all.
I stayed close to the perimeter, blending into the background. It gave me the perfect vantage point to watch her if she moved into the crowd now gathering in front of the stage where four guys were running their final sound check. A crackle of anticipation rippled through the room as the lights dimmed and a spotlight lit center stage. I liked music as much as the next guy, but I’d never really had time for listening to live music.
But when the opening bars of the first song played, I found myself tapping my hand against my leg. They were good; tight beats and the vocalist had a smooth voice that complemented their sound. Glancing back at the bar, I cursed under my breath. I’d taken my eyes off her for two minutes, and Becca had already disappeared. My eyes roved over the crowd, but it was so busy, and there was so much black and denim, it made it difficult to see.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d moved to the edge of the main crowd, scanning for any signs of Becca. It was the same moment the band changed tempo. The whole room seemed to explode as a heavy bass pounded out of the speakers. It thrummed through me, spurring the crowd into a frenzy as people started jumping and pumping the air with their fists. A couple of girls crashed into me, embarrassment flashing over their faces as I stepped back to give them space. It was chaos. Guys pounded against one another, yelling along with the lyrics, and even the girls were throwing themselves around like rag dolls. And right in the middle, swamped by guys who towered over her, was Becca. Hands raised above her head, she jumped and swayed and moved with the rest of the room.
My gaze raked down Becca’s body, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Despite her efforts to look tough, she looked so vulnerable. A rose among thorns.
A guy shouldered her, and she staggered back. I lunged forward, ready to drag her the hell out of there, but then she spun around, her eyes closed, head thrown back, wearing a wide smile on her face, and I realized Malachi was right—she needed this. In some weird way, she was free out there. But it didn’t change the fact that she would end up hurt. These guys were crazy, and I’d noticed more than one dude leering at her through the hustle and bustle.
I pushed my way farther into the thick of it, earning me a couple of hard glares from guys twice my size. Becca spun again, facing the stage, and I moved behind her, leaving only a sliver of space between us. It was perfect timing because the song ended, and the band went straight into something with less bass. The sea of faceless people swayed and bobbed their heads in time with the mellow beat. Becca followed them, her shoulders swinging from side to side. Her black sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing a khaki tank top underneath and milky skin just begging to be touched.
Without thinking, I slid my arms around her waist and gathered her against me. Her body recoiled, and I felt Becca’s fight instinct kick in, but I held firm, dipping my mouth to her ear. “It’s me,” I whispered.
