Hope Falls: Guardian Angel (KW) (WI 2.5) Page 2

  She had missed countless family occasions—birthdays, weddings, Thanksgivings, Christmases—because she had a gig.

  And then there was the “almost” relationship—the perfect man she’d met at her sister’s wedding, connected with, and thought was perhaps the one—that she’d walked away from time after time because of this damn career.

  Rory Summit had lived her life in perpetual motion. And now, at the moment when all that hard work had finally paid off…

  She realized she didn’t want—any of it.

  What the fuck have I done?

  The emcee handed her a microphone and she switched to autopilot, singing as the fans in the crowd cheered. She plastered on a fake smile, pretending to be thrilled, when deep inside she was in a state of sheer panic.

  She went through the motions, performing then accepting the endless congratulations. She did the interviews with local news reporters, all clamoring to get a soundbite from Rory Summit, the woman destined to be the next rock superstar. It took nearly two hours before she could escape the madness, slipping into her dressing room and locking the door behind her. She dropped down onto the chair that faced the lighted mirror and studied her reflection.

  What the fuck have I done?

  She had trapped herself in a life she didn’t want anymore. Committed herself to a lifetime of what she’d endured the last decade. Only now, the stakes had been raised higher—too high—as she faced the realization that with this win, her workload and the pressure to succeed had quadrupled. She would be expected to do all the same grueling things she’d been doing but on a much larger scale, while constantly under the microscope of the paparazzi.

  She’d just blown any chance of a relatively normal life out of the water. She couldn’t recall why the hell she thought this was what she’d wanted.

  Rory rubbed her eyes wearily, not bothering to open them again until she heard her cell phone buzz. She glanced around the dressing room, trying to recall where she’d left it several hours before. Before she’d walked on that stage and sealed her own fate.

  Rifling through the pocket of her leather jacket, she found the phone. Pulling it out, she wasn’t surprised to see she’d missed a ton of texts. Word had gotten out that she’d won, and now everybody and their brother wanted to congratulate her.

  She scrolled through the list, surprised to see one name repeated, close to a dozen times. It wasn’t a name she would have expected to see there, even just once.

  She clicked on it and scrolled to the beginning of the text thread. The messages had appeared one at a time, spread out over the past few hours.

  Call me.

  Rory hadn’t spoken to Kevin Sanders in nearly a year, not since they’d declared the last hookup the last hookup.

  Ever since her sister’s wedding, she and Callie’s brother-in-law had indulged in a “Same Time Next Year” affair, falling into each other’s arms and beds whenever their paths crossed. That had ended last year when Kevin broke the rules.

  When he’d asked for more.

  She’d freaked out, then lost her temper, then broke his heart—and hers.

  Figures. She’d thrown those thoughts about her lost lover out there into the universe and, of course, it tossed him right back in her face when she was feeling completely weak and scared.

  She forced herself to keep reading his texts.

  Where are you? It’s about Callie.

  Callie? Her sister? Rory’s heart started to race as she scrolled through the messages faster.

  She collapsed this afternoon. We’re at the hospital. ICU. Her kidneys are failing.

  Rory’s hands started to shake.

  Jesus, Rory. Please. Call me. You need to come home. NOW.

  She checked the time stamp. His plea had come two hours ago. About the same time she’d been announced the winner.

  There were several more texts along the same lines. Then the one she had just received.

  Please call me. She didn’t make it.

  Rory dropped the phone, fighting like crazy to find some other way those words could be interpreted.

  Didn’t make it?

  No.

  “No,” she said to herself, shaking her head vehemently. “No. No. NO!” She picked up a hairbrush from the dressing table and smashed it into the mirror, the glass shattering loudly.

  There was a knock on the door. “Rory?” Les Fossie, the man who’d organized the competition, called out to her. “Rory? Are you okay?”

  She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Her throat had constricted, closed off to not only sound, but air. She was suffocating, choking to death on tears she couldn’t get out.

  “Rory?”

  She crossed the room on wooden legs as a wave of ice-cold water washed over her entire body. By the time she managed to open the door, she was shivering violently.

  “Jesus, kid,” Les said as he walked in, taking in the devastation in the room. The mirror wasn’t the only thing that was shattered. Her heart was in pieces as well. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a pro. You’re going to do great.”

  He thought she was freaking out over the win. She had been, but that reaction would be a blessing to the pain ravaging her right now.

  “No. I won’t,” she whispered.

  His brow creased and she could see him searching for ways to bolster his winner.

  She cut him off before he could speak. “My sister,” she started. She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say the rest. She wouldn’t.

  If she didn’t say it, it wasn’t true.

  “What?” Les glanced around the room, clearly confused. “What about her? Is she here?”

  Her lower lip trembled as she shook her head. “I have to go home.”

  Understanding seemed to dawn. “Did something happen to your sister?”

  She nodded. “I have to leave.” And then she forced herself to picture the face she’d blocked out, the one that made everything happening right now so much more agonizing.

  Angel.

  Her four-year-old niece.

  The love of Rory’s life.

  “Okay,” Les said, thinking his problem was easily solved. “I’ll postpone the scheduled interviews for a week, tell everyone there was a family emergency. That’ll give you time to take care of your sister and get back here—”

  “I’m not coming back.”

  Les went white. “Wait. What? You have to. You won. The prize is the tour. You’re going to be opening for—”

  “I’m not coming back,” she repeated, shocked by the sudden strength in her voice.

  “Rory. I’m not sure what happened, but I think you need to take some time and think about what you’re doing here, what you’re throwing away.”

  “I don’t need time. I need to be with my family.”

  Her family of one. Angel.

  “Rory—” he started.

  She closed her eyes and forced the words out. She had to make him understand. Hell, she had to make herself understand, but she didn’t see that happening anytime soon. “My sister died tonight. Which means I need to go home to take care of my four-year-old niece. I’m not coming back, Les.”

  “Jesus,” Les muttered. “I’m sorry, kid. So fucking sorry.”

  “Can you get the word out for me? To the press? Tell them I’m conceding. I can’t stick around. I need to book a flight.”

  “Of course. Yeah. If you’re sure…” Les was a lifetimer himself. Manager of Sky Adams and Teagan Collins, two of the biggest performers in music. He was also a confirmed bachelor with no children of his own. It stood to reason he couldn’t conceive of the decision she was making.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll take care of it.” He sighed, patted her on the shoulder affectionately, then walked out of the room.

  Rory picked her phone up from the floor and booked the first flight out of Baltimore. It was a redeye that would put her in Sacramento in the wee hours of the morning. From there, she’d have to rent a car and
drive the rest of the way to Hope Falls.

  She’d told Les she was going home, which wasn’t true. Hope Falls wasn’t her home. The road was. And before that, Chicago.

  Callie had only transplanted from the city to the small California town after her husband, Keith, had been killed in the line of duty. Six months pregnant at the time and out of her mind with grief, Callie had insisted her baby wasn’t growing up in such a dangerous place. She’d packed up her apartment and moved to Hope Falls so that Angel could live in a safe, small town.

  Callie picked Hope Falls because that was where Kevin lived and worked as an accountant. Her sister wanted Angel to be close to family, and since Rory never remained in one place longer than twenty-four hours, that meant Uncle Kevin’s hometown won the bid.

  With the flight booked, she headed for her hotel to pack. On the way, she placed the call she dreaded making.

  “Hey, Rory,” Kevin said, his voice monotone. Obviously, he was as numb as she felt.

  “I just got your messages. I was onstage.” She felt like a heartless bitch admitting that she’d been singing while her sister lay in a hospital bed dying. “I didn’t…”

  “Rory. I’m so sorry for that. I was alone in the hospital when the doctor came out and said she…” His words were halting. As if he was having trouble thinking. “And…Jesus. I can’t believe I texted you that. My head…wasn’t in the right place. I started convincing myself you weren’t calling back because of,” he paused.

  “The last time we were together.”

  “I should never had told you about Callie with a goddamn text. I’ll never fucking forgive myself for that.”

  “Don’t. Don’t, Kevin. It’s okay. I just,” her throat started to close, the words feeling thick and heavy. “I don’t understand what happened. Was she sick?”

  “This wasn’t expected. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Angel,” she whispered, unable to say anything more.

  “She’s with me. We came back to Callie’s because I wanted her to be in her own bed tonight. She’s confused, upset. I just got her to sleep a few minutes ago.”

  “I’ve booked a flight. I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

  “Okay. We have a lot to talk about, to figure out.”

  “I know. I just…can’t…”

  “Just focus on getting here, Rory. We’ll sort it all out. It’ll be okay.”

  She smiled despite her sadness. Kevin was nothing if not steady, reliable, normal. While she was a hot mess on a good day, he always had his shit together. Always.

  She’d actually used that personality trait against him, offered it up as a reason why the two of them could never share more than that string of one-night stands.

  Kevin Sanders should have been just one one-night stand. Just a clichéd hookup. After all, they’d set it up that way. Gotten tipsy and then naked after the wedding of their siblings, her maid of honor dress wrinkling on the floor with his rented tux as they had some pretty earth-shaking sex.

  However, the morning after—actually the entire day after—had been spent in bed, the two of them growing far too close in a relatively short time.

  Kevin had suggested the holiday hookup, which was followed up by the birth-of-their-niece hookup, and then there was Angel’s first birthday and a Thanksgiving and…God, they’d fallen into bed ten times in the last six years. Just ten times. And after every hookup, she’d swear it was the last. Then she’d show up for another visit and fall straight back into his arms.

  Until the last time.

  She’d had a brief affair with Eddie, the guitarist in her former band, the Road Rebels, thinking she’d be able to get Kevin out of her system by falling for someone more suitable, someone who shared the same lifestyle as her. That idea had failed miserably, leaving her even more frustrated and alone, as her breakup with Eddie resulted in the band’s demise as well.

  She had gone to Callie’s to regroup, to figure out her next move, and Kevin had been there with what he saw as the perfect solution to her problem. A real home. With him.

  He’d suggested that she take a break from the road to see if the two of them could make something more lasting stick, and she’d lost her shit, ruining everything in grand style.

  For the past twelve months, Callie had begged her to come for a visit, but she’d resisted, unable to face Kevin again. Now…oh God. Now Callie was gone, and she’d never see her again. She’d fucking wasted so much time, and for what? To play the coward? To hide?

  “Kevin,” she started, suddenly wishing she was already there. The grief was closing in on her, making it hard to move, to think.

  “Slow and steady, rock star. You can do this.”

  One tear found its way out, sliding down her cheek as he used the nickname he’d adopted for her their first night together.

  She sniffled, swiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she said at last.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They hung up.

  Closing her eyes, she recalled that first Christmas after Callie and Keith had gotten married. They’d been so young and happy and in love.

  *

  Keith lifted his glass. “One last toast,” he said, as Rory and Kevin rolled their eyes. Keith was three sheets to the wind already and uncharacteristically giddy. Rory used to wonder how her bubbly sister could have fallen so head over heels for such a serious guy, but for the first time, Rory was seeing a side on Keith that suddenly had her understanding. The stern cop was actually as funny as his brother, the two of them telling stories and cracking jokes all day. They’d even initiated a Nerf gun war, the four of them chasing each other around the house, hiding behind furniture and playing like a bunch of rowdy twelve-year-olds. It had been one of the best Christmases of Rory’s life.

  However, despite that, she was anxious to see it end, to say her good nights to Callie and Keith, because within five minutes of her arrival that morning, Kevin had whispered his oh-so-naughty plans for tonight.

  They all lifted their glasses, Callie giving her husband a smile and nod that confused Rory until her brother-in-law said, “Here’s to the next generation of Sanders. Arriving mid-June.”

  Rory and Kevin fell silent for a moment as they assimilated the information. Then both of them turned to each other and high-fived, grinning like idiots.

  “I’m going to be the world’s most fun uncle,” Kevin proclaimed. “This kid is going to love me.”

  Rory laughed. “Yeah. Good luck beating me. Nothing cooler than a rocker aunt. Twenty bucks says I’m the one the kid brags about to all the other kids at school.”

  Keith and Callie listened to them attempt to one-up each other for a few minutes before excusing themselves. They lived in a two-bedroom apartment on the east side of Chicago. Rory had been given the spare bedroom, Kevin the couch. Their siblings didn’t realize the couch they’d made up for Kevin would go unused.

  Or, not completely unused. Rory and Kevin made out like a couple of teenagers for nearly forty minutes, waiting until they were sure Keith and Callie were asleep before sneaking to her room together. They’d both agreed to keep their hookups a secret, aware that their siblings wouldn’t approve. Well, Keith wouldn’t approve. Callie was more likely to worry about it ending poorly and messing up this little family of four they’d created.

  Rory and Callie’s parents hadn’t started their family until they were both nearly forty, and neither of them had ever been particularly healthy. They’d died within a year of each other, leaving her and Callie parentless when they were in their early twenties.

  Meanwhile, Keith and Kevin’s folks had retired and moved to Greece a few years earlier, rarely returning to the States. Neither of the Sanders boys seemed bothered by their parents’ absence, and Rory got the sense they didn’t really get along with their mom and dad.

  As she and Kevin crawled between the sheets, Rory started to have second thoughts.

  “Kevin,” she whispered. “I’m not
sure this is—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence, Rory. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about all the dirty, dirty things I want to do to you since that damn wedding in February.”

  “Dirty, you say?” she replied with a sexy grin.

  He didn’t share her smile, still too intent on convincing her. “I don’t want to put labels on this. I don’t want to think of it as right or wrong. I just want to be with you. However. Whenever.”

  Her doubts faded. He was right. Even if she continued to resist, she would never have the strength or willpower to follow through. She wanted him too badly.

  “I feel the same way.”

  *

  Rory’s eyes opened as the taxi came to a stop in front of her hotel. She paid the fare, then walked inside to pack up her stuff. That night so many years ago had ended just like the weekend of the wedding. With Kevin making love to her, both of them using their kisses as a way to keep quiet so they didn’t wake up Keith and Callie.

  She dropped down on the bed, tears falling as she cursed fate, wondering how life could be so cruel. Keith had just turned thirty, just gotten married and been promoted at work, when a bullet took him away. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to see his baby. His Angel.

  Callie had named her that, proclaiming her daughter was the angel her husband had sent to her from heaven. Callie used to swear her husband was looking over “his girls,” that they had their own personal guardian angel.

  Now Callie was…

  “God,” she said to the empty room, her voice thick with tears. “God, Callie.”

  She sure as hell didn’t want some fucking guardian angel looking down on her. She just wanted her sister.

  Rory pushed the painful thoughts away. If she didn’t, she’d never be able to finish packing and get on that plane.

  She shoved the grief deeper, fighting to keep it contained. She didn’t fool herself into thinking it would stay there for long.

  Rory tried to figure out how many minutes she had to survive alone before she could get to Hope Falls. To Angel.