Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(79)

Lyrik threw him a look riddled with daggers and knives. “Don’t f*cking start, man.”

Ash smiled, shrugged innocently. “Not starting anything. The two of you just look a little cozier than you did last night, that’s all. Can’t a guy make an observation?”

“Not that kind, he can’t,” Lyrik warned, but it was lighter than I expected, his voice carrying as he climbed higher, hauling me up behind him.

Low laughter rolled from Ash as he took to the steps behind us. “I’m just not the type of guy who goes burying his head in the sand. Not fool enough to miss what’s right in front of me.”

Lyrik didn’t look back, just clenched my hand a little tighter in his hold.

Warily, I glanced back at Ash with a scowl. To ask him once to lay off the ribbing.

I was feeling protective of the shaky relationship Lyrik and I had, if you could call it that at all. I sure as hell had no idea what to label this.

One minute I’d accepted I would never touch him again and the next I was boarding a plane to spend the weekend in L.A. with him, visiting his family of all things.

But more than that? I was feeling protective of Lyrik.

It was difficult enough for us to maneuver it, wading through uncharted territory. I got the feeling neither of us were sure when one step would be the wrong one. The one that would backfire and incite a chain reaction leading to the end.

Or maybe like that picture, it’d be one disastrous explosion.

But Ash’s expression was so much different than I expected. His smile soft. Kind as his attention drifted to the back of Lyrik’s head, steady as it latched back on me.

Telling.

He needs you as much as you need him.

Do you see?

Don’t give up. Don’t let go.

I guess it was the knowledge I wouldn’t be the one making that decision that caused the throbbing ache to flare in my gut.

So I was no money-grubbing whore, but I’d be lying if I said flying across country in a private jet wasn’t the way to go. The flight was filled with laughter and chatter and unending mimosas, the time so comfortable and natural it was easy to convince myself this was where I belonged.

The guys had jumped into what amounted to an acoustic practice session, running through the set they would play tonight. We stopped for the fastest layover in history to refuel before we were back in the air, then what felt like moments later we were descending yet again.

Los Angeles.

I wrung my hands as I was hit with a rush of jitters.

How crazy, this was supposed to be my home. The place where I’d led everyone to believe I grew up, because it’d been the first city that’d come to mind when Charlie had asked where I was from. It was a familiar place because my family had visited many times for vacations—only an eight-hour drive from the desert city I’d fled four years ago.

I gazed out the small jet window at the jungle of buildings and roads that quickened to meet us from below.

“Are you going to visit any of your family while you’re back in town?”

Shea’s question pulled me from my trance, and I jerked her direction. Her brown eyes were curious. As if she’d plucked the guilty thoughts right from my head and pointed to my past that got harder and harder to escape the closer I came.

Lyrik looked over at me, too.

Expectantly.

As if maybe since I was going to visit his family, it would only make sense he go to visit mine, too.

Shit. What had I gotten myself into? But I’d known it was coming all along.

The decision.

Run or confront.

But right then I didn’t have the strength to step from this limbo, so instead I shook off the haze. Forced a smile and cleared my throat.

“No.” I tilted my head at Lyrik. “The trip is short and Lyrik and I are going to visit his family before the show tonight. I doubt there’s time.”

That in itself should have been enough to make me rethink this whole thing. Label it a really freaking bad idea. The thought of showing up at Lyrik’s childhood home without a clue about them or who they were. Being in the dark, not privy or partner to the events that haunted Lyrik, a stranger to what had bred his impervious heart.

A heavy sigh pushed from my lungs. I needed to stop this train of thought before I made more out of this weekend than there actually was.

Lyrik frowned. “We haven’t gotten you a ticket to go home yet. We can make time for you to visit your family if you want.”

But his words were laden with caution, because only this boy had been allowed to peek over the walls I’d surrounded myself with. Into the place where I harbored my secrets. Now he held the key to completely expose them.

My forced smile trembled, and it was as if he knew. As if he could read me. It simmered around us. The trust that bound us so blatantly clear.

With that deadly smile, he looked at Shea. His words slid out in obvious innuendo. “Pretty sure I’m going to be keeping our girl Tamar here busy all weekend.”

But that smile was so utterly soft when he turned it back on me.

Sebastian curled his arms around his wife and whispered something in her ear.

Swiveling into his hold, Shea kissed him.

And that was it, topic diverted.

I was saved.

We landed and debarked. An extra-long, black SUV was waiting to pick us up. Lyrik and I crawled into the very back seat, and he wound me in his arms, our sides pressed together as I rested my head on his shoulder. As if we’d done it a thousand times and I was his and he was mine and this was the way it was always going to be.