Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(22)

To be understood.

Like maybe it was only the artist who actually could.

A shock of intrigue slammed me in the chest. A punch of that insanity I’d felt this last weekend. That overpowering lust that I’d had a bitch of a time forgetting.

Girl sinking in her claws without even gifting me with her name.

It crawled over me like the innuendo of a dream.

A vague, vapor of a memory.

Problem was, I couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare I wanted to shun or an idea I wanted to wake up to and beg it to become my truth.

Materialize.

I tore my attention from one of the pictures that was hanging on the far wall, floating halfway up to the soaring ceiling. Room was decked out in massive arches and crown molding, giving it form and shape. A curved staircase ascended to the second floor, breaking off into two sections halfway up.

“This way.” Lyrik moved through the foyer and living room that I was pretty sure you weren’t actually supposed to live in.

“Ash’s wife, Willow?” he hedged.

I gave a small nod to let him know that I knew who he was referring to.

“She refurbishes old furniture,” he explained. “Pieces she picks up that are completely dilapidated and broken to shit. Half the time, she digs them out of a dumpster. Brings them back to life. Every piece in here is a piece of her.”

Ah. Made sense.

Lyrik didn’t exactly seem like the antique type.

“Beautiful stuff,” I told him, making conversation because I just didn’t relate to the whole ‘making a house a home’ bullshit.

Not when I’d burned mine to the ground.

“Yeah. She’s super talented. Tamar has even helped her with a couple pieces. Weird how things become more treasured when you have a hand in their making.”

Lyrik ducked through the next doorway at the end of the hall. It led into an enormous great room.

One-part kitchen.

One-part playground.

My eyes widened a bit at the mess.

Place was completely at odds with the area we’d just walked through. Pillows had been tossed from the overstuffed sectional couch that faced a TV the size of a football stadium, toys strewn everywhere, socks and shoes discarded on the floor.

“This is where we all pretty much chill. Warning, kids get nuts in here. You don’t like the littles, you’re going to have to hide out in your shack.”

He grinned.

Sourness climbed my throat. I swallowed it down. Pasted on a smile. “Kids don’t bother me.”

Didn’t plan on spending much of any time in here or around Lyrik’s family. Like he’d warned me, they were his main priority. What he would fight for and live for and die for. I didn’t have any business hanging around any of them.

Would make myself scarce.

Play when the band needed me and hide out when they didn’t.

He laughed. A little harder than prudent. “Yeah, well, between me and my crew, we have a whole goddamn mob of them. Have a couple extras spending the summer here at the house, too. Place promises to be a fuckin’ zoo.” He stretched out his tattooed arms. “Welcome to the Wild, Wild West. No place better to be.”

He smirked.

I chuckled. So it turned out the big, bad Lyrik West was kinda a sap. “Not a problem. Just here to play some music and mind my business. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You’re going to be right out here.” He gestured toward the bank of windows that opened up to the walled-in backyard. “Code to the door is 98564. We keep the main house locked, inside and out, to keep the kids away from the pool if they’re not supervised. You’re welcome to come and go . . . just make sure this shit remains locked.”

Another warning. And I was starting to wonder why the fuck I had agreed to stay here. Maybe I just was wanting to torture myself.

“Got it.”

I glanced through the windows.

Backyard, my ass.

It was some kind of oasis in the middle of downtown Savannah.

Fucking paradise.

Eden.

Fountains spouted from the four corners of the yard, and each was surrounded by lush, pink flowering bushes. A luxurious pool sat right at the center of it, surrounded by an intricate brick patio and cool deck.

A long wing of the house extended along the right side, that portion one-story.

At the very back of the lot was a miniature replica of the main house. Two small columns framed the front door and small porch, the one story made to look like it was two.

“That’s you. Hope it meets your standards.”

“Looks to me like I’ll be just fine.”

He started to open the door, only to pause when a clatter of footsteps suddenly came pounding down a set of stairs that dumped out in the great room.

A riot of shrieks and laughter and shouting voices flooded the space.

You’d think an entire daycare was on a field trip.

Nope.

The chaos was summoned by three kids.

“Whoa, guys, watch yourselves. We’ve got company.”

Kid at the helm put on the brakes, nothing but wild black hair and dark, dark eyes.

“You the drummer?” He was all eager grins and easy smiles as he came toward me like we were gonna be the best of friends.

Would put down bets this kid belonged to Lyrik, and I wouldn’t need Rhys’ nuts for collateral.