Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(17)

Absently checking his phone at the thought, his breath caught and shuddered out, slowing immediately. Savannah. He’d missed a call from Savannah, and she’d left a voicemail.

Heart beating raggedly now for an entirely different reason, he brought the phone to his ear, anticipating hearing her angel-sweet voice and wondering if it would be the balm to his soul he hoped it would. Depends, he thought, on what she has to say.

“Hi, Mike? Sorry I missed you. I hate talking to these things, too. And you’re probably thinking, ‘Then why don’t you text?’ Which is what I’m asking myself right now.” She chuckled and he found himself smiling. “Listen, I told Rowan about your offer and, well, I guess we’re in! The Houston show would be easiest for us. So, um, just call me back with details or whatever, okay? Okay. Um . . . thanks. Bye.”

He was actually surprised she remembered their midnight conversation, truth be known. Her sleepy voice had slurred on more than one occasion and he’d thought she might drift off right there on the phone with him. If he wanted to be perfectly honest with himself, some of his sleepless nights had been more about hoping she was all right and wondering if he would ever hear that voice again than any personal torment he was experiencing.

She answered right away when he called back, her cheery greeting a little breathless. For a moment, he couldn’t think straight. “Savannah, hey. I got your message.”

“Oh, great. So I guess you know? Well, obviously, you know. You got the message. Um . . .”

Grinning, he bailed her out. “Do you think you two would rather drive over, or fly?”

“Rowan hates flying. She will when she has to. But that’s probably the main reason she wants to do the Houston date. It’s fairly close.”

He didn’t like the thought of them on the road for that long; they would be safer in the sky. But of course, it was up to them. “Yeah, but one hour in the air and you’d be here. Versus five in a car.”

“Believe me, I know. Maybe I can talk her into it.”

“Let me know so I can arrange everything. I’ll get Zane to tell his people to put you guys on the guest list.”

“And . . . you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be around, yeah.” His mood had brightened considerably after hearing from her, but as the reality of the situation sank back in, it darkened once again. “I won’t make you tell me to steer clear. I know. If either of you need anything, I’m there and you have my number, but other than that, I’ll keep my distance.”

“Mike . . .” Something helpless and sad in her voice. It stilled everything inside him. Heart, lungs, life itself. It all seemed to pause, on hold, waiting for her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she finished, and everything reluctantly started back up again, a little sadder, a little grimmer.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Savannah. Ever.”

“How have you been?”

He thought of the trio in the locker room, the shifty gazes, the violated sanctuary. The ghosts. Rubbing his forehead, he told her, “I’m hanging in there. Just got done at the gym. What about you?”

“I spent the day with Rowan, planning the nursery. I’m hanging in there too, I guess. It’s hard.”

“I know.”

“She seems a little better today. The idea of getting to meet your brother turned her into a screeching fangirl for a few minutes. Despite everything, I think she might have a tiny bit of a crush.”

He burst out laughing at that. “Oh, God. In that case, I hope she’s not incredibly disappointed. I’ll have to tell him to be on his best behavior.”

“So, is he . . . bad?”

“No, not really. I try to keep him humble. Everything blew up so fast for them, I guess he’s dealing with it as best he can.”

“The fighter and the singer. What does your other brother do?”

Hell only knew. “He’s the player.”

“Is he famous too, then?” Amusement tinged her voice.

“Among certain circles. He’s a poker champ with his own nightclub. I have no idea what he’s up to most of the time.” Which was probably a good thing. The poker room alone carried the threat of a felony.

“You have a very interesting family, Michael.”

You don’t know the half of it, he thought, his mouth setting in a tight line. No one, not even Jon, knew everything they’d had to endure to survive, let alone make something of themselves. A lot of sweat and tears. More than a little blood.

If he had his way, no one would ever know, though the media had become quite fond of unearthing the dried-up bones of his past ever since Tommy Dugas died at his hands. He didn’t doubt there were people who, if they’d dug deep enough, believed he had done it on purpose, that his fighting was only an outlet to work out some innate violence and aggression. It was simply all he’d ever known, all he’d ever been good at. Maybe if he could sing like Zane or read people like Damien, he would be doing something different with his life.

But it wasn’t to be.

“Are you still there?” Savannah asked, and he made an effort to shake himself out of his mental funk. For her.

“Yeah, I’m here. So I’ll talk to Zane, and you let me know if you change your mind about flying. I think you should, but it’s up to you. Say the word and I can have a car pick you up at the airport and bring you to the venue.”