Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(109)

Asher continued to look dazed. Then he finally shook his head and gave a distracted, “No. I...I had no idea.”

“Then who was the song about?”

“What?” He glanced at her sharply. “No one. I just...I made it up.” Scrubbing at the back of his head, he glanced at his wrist, which did not contain a watch. “Shit. I’m late for a...thing. I gotta go. See you.”

As he spun away and hurried off, Felicity stared after him before turning to me. “He didn’t just make that song up, did he?”

“Doubt it.”

She huffed out a breath. “Well, now I’m really curious who it was about. Do you think that happened to him too? His mom left him at the hospital when he was born? That would be totally wicked.”

I opened my mouth to say maybe when I remembered the first night I’d met Asher. “His dad killed his mom,” I blurted.

She whirled to me. “What?”

“The first night I worked with him, he asked me if I knew a guy from prison. I knew who he was talking about and that the guy was in there for killing his wife. Asher told me it was his dad.”

She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy...oh my God. Poor Asher. I had no idea.”

“Yeah.” I glanced after the singer. “I guess we all have f*cked-up families. Just f*cked up in different ways.”

Compassion filled her gaze. She reached for my arm as if she wanted to squeeze it, but at the last second, she changed her mind and dropped her hand. After clearing her throat, she asked, “Ready to go?”

I nodded and followed her out. Rocket was nowhere to be seen, but I still felt uneasy. I waited until we reached the apartment and Felicity had unlocked the front door before I said, “That drummer in Asher’s band. Rock. That was my brother Rocket.”

“Wha...what?” Felicity whirled around and gaped at me. When I just watched her, she threw her hands into the air. “Oh my God, why didn’t you say something before?”

I ushered her the rest of the way inside, and once we were both in, I shut the door at my back. “I didn’t know what to say. He was...different.”

“Different?” she repeated, frowning.

“He wasn’t at all concerned about catching up on old times. He seemed more obsessed about some vendetta he has against the Bainbridge family.”

“The...” She shook her head. “Excuse me?”

“He tried to recruit me into his cause. Said they all needed to pay for what they did to Mercy. What they did to me. For how they burned down our house.” When her eyebrows lifted at that, I had to ask, “Was that fire arson?”

“I...I...” she sputtered, before shaking her head. “There were rumors, of course. People came and questioned all of us, but...no, I don’t…I don’t think they ever decided it was arson.” Concern filled her eyes. “Why? Do you think one of the Bainbridges did it? That they killed half your family? Bentley?”

I studied her a second before shaking my head. “No,” I said. “I think an eighteen-year-old boy filled with too much hate was making up reasons to justify his resentment.”

Her shoulders fell, revealing her relief. But then a new hint of caution filled her gaze. “And you’re not filled with that same hatred?”

If I’d never met her in the woods and spent an entire summer learning what love was, I might’ve been a lot more hostile. I might’ve been filled with more hate than Rocket was. But there were so many better things to hold on to than animosity. The part of me that clung to the love we’d once shared would never let me stoop to Rocket’s bitter level.

“No,” was all I could tell her. There was dark shit in me, but I wasn’t filled with hatred.

She sent me a small smile and nodded. “Good.” When she turned toward her room, I said, “You need to stay away from him.”

She glanced back at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t like the way he glared at you. He thinks you’re one of them, and he’d probably have no qualms about seeking his misplaced sense of justice by going after you.”

Shaking her head, she said, “What’re you saying? You think he’s the person leaving the ‘death threats’ on my locker?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”





An impasse seemed to sprout between Knox and me the night following his encounter with his brother. I stopped pressing him for more and he stopped pushing me away. But there was still a distance between us I couldn’t stand.

He was gone Saturday morning when I woke, probably working out at the gym he’d yet to tell me he frequented. But he’d brewed my coffee, and it was waiting in its carafe for me when I stumbled into the kitchen. I tried not to let that affect me, but I was still touched by his thoughtfulness.

The rest of the day, I hung out in my room, only coming out when I heard him leave the kitchen or bathroom, and he seemed to do the same. The living room had become a no man’s land where neither of us spent any time.

It was pretty depressing, and I wondered how long we could keep this up. It didn’t feel as if it could last forever. In fact, the entire day felt like the calm before a storm.

I just had no idea the storm would come in the form of a perky brunette named Reese. She called early Sunday morning.