Consumed (Devoured, #2)(48)

Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

Grinning at my screen, I start to let her know that I can’t wait to see her, but then I erase the message. The video of Cilla is still bothering me, and what better person to ask than Kylie, who was probably around at the time.

Hey, weird question, but what was Cilla’s deal at that Louisville show?

For the first time since we’ve started chatting on Facebook months ago, she answers me almost immediately.

Kylie McCrae: She thought she was being stalked. Someone was sending her letters and gifts. She got one right before the show and LOST it. Okay, I hate to do this, babe, but I’ve got to run—I’m exhausted!

Letters and gifts. This sounds so much like the crap Sam has been pulling with me that I want to hurl. It also forces a few things into a clear focus. Like Cilla calling me her newest stalker. Or why Lucas wants to avoid Louisville—Cilla’s rant had to have come with some backlash for Your Toxic Sequel.

Still, I genuinely feel sorry for Cilla.

Putting my fingers back to the keyboard, this time, I actually do tell Kylie that I’m excited to see her before closing my computer screen. Frustrated, I climb onto my bed. When I spot the letter Sam had sent me on my nightstand, I flick it into the wastebasket on the other side of my bed.

Letters and gifts.

No, I absolutely wouldn’t be surprised if Cilla’s “stalker” was Lucas’s ex-wife just trying to screw with her, but it still doesn’t make it any less disturbing.





Instead of me leaving my car at the airport again, and having to face the ridiculous long term parking fees upon my return in a week, Gram offers to drop me off the next morning for my flight to South Carolina. During the drive, I finally bring up the attorney appointment she’d mentioned to me a couple weeks ago.

I had avoided bringing up all things related to my mother during the last two days, but now that I’m leaving, I feel like I don’t exactly have a choice.

After I ask her, Gram squints at the road. “Rebecca’s trying to get an early release,” she explains.

For good behavior, no doubt. I won’t say anything about all of the fights my mom has been involved in during just this past year alone. “And this attorney’s not going to do it for free, is he?” My grandmother is not a wealthy woman, and the last thing I want is for her to get herself in a bad situation again just because she wants to help my mom.

Gram is silent for a couple of minutes, and the only sound in the car is the soft whoosh of the air conditioner. At last, she says, “Not even close to it, sweetheart.” The corner of her lip trembles, leaving me to believe that there’s something she’s not telling me.

I can easily guess what that is.

“She wanted you to talk to me about paying for it?”

“She knows you can’t do it. She wanted you to talk to Lucas,” Gram corrects me, and I narrow my eyes.

“How does she even know about him?”

My grandmother shakes her head, the air conditioner blowing thin strands of her gray hair around. “I’m not sure. I imagined that it was in one of those entertainment magazines they pass around.” She pulls around to the airport’s drop off section and puts her old Mercedes sedan in park. “I told her I wouldn’t ask you.”

And chances are, my mother had gone ballistic on her, calling her every name conceivable. My body tenses up, but I give Gram a smile that I hope tells her just how much I adore her. “I love you.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. “I love you so much.”

“You too, Sienna.”

As I grab my belongings from the backseat, I add, “And if Mom calls you again, tell her that even though the answer is no, she could at least have the balls to ask me herself. In fact, she can call me anytime and take it up with me.”

My grandmother’s blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “I will. You take care of yourself. I’ll see you in a week, sweetheart.”

Unlike the last time I flew out of Nashville, my flight to Greenville is short—a total of three hours and that’s includes a brief layover in Charlotte where I grab a sandwich from a bagel shop. I’m almost too excited to eat. Despite the client cancellation and the Sam letter, I’m more anxious than before to get to the band—no, to Lucas. Part of it’s that almost painful need to be near him and the other part is pride. If I stay with him, maybe it’ll prove a point.

Instead of sending someone to pick me up, he’s waiting for me in the terminal when my flight touches down in Greenville. Before I can get out a single word, his mouth covers mine and he kisses me like we’ve been apart for years and not just two days. I’m left dizzy, with my heartbeat racing, when he sets me away from him.

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve thought of this since you left,” he says.

“I’ve been gone for two days,” I point out, although I feel the same. This thing between us—it’s crazy, consuming. Even here it makes us nearly oblivious to the world around us. I don’t notice the three women a few feet away from us until after he leaves me to get my luggage. They have out their camera phones, snapping pictures of Lucas and I can almost guarantee that I was also the focus of their snaps only moments before.

One of them gives me a look that throws daggers into my chest. She leans towards one of her friends and says something behind her hand. But as Lucas calls my name—and I see him coming toward me holding my duffel bag with a look in his eyes that screams desire and love and want—I could care less.