engaged when he died and the story about me carrying his “love child.” Mom hadn’t made that one up. Mark had been urging me to agree to at least one of the interview offers I had spilling in. I thought I’d have to, in some form of attempt to get my life back. We were meant to play a show here in just over a week, which was why we came back. We never missed shows. So yeah, Duke was useful. Not that I minded hanging out with him. I liked him. We were friends. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes. He was big and muscled—surprise, surprise—and Hispanic, sporting a short buzz cut, a throwback from his military days. He had a wicked sense of humor and laughed easily. Not that you’d see that when he was out in public with his blank and scary bodyguard mask on. It was comical, the difference.
“I’m glad you got away, Lexie. You needed a holiday. You work too hard,” Mom declared, jerking me back into the present.
I bent over and put the last of the clothes in the washer, turning it on. “I need to work hard. Rock star isn’t exactly a part-time job. It’s an all-or-nothing kind of gig.”
“Yeah well, don’t take it too serious. The stress of it will give you wrinkles. You don’t want to have to get Botox at this young age.”
“You’re saying I need Botox?” I asked, touching my forehead self-consciously.
“No, not yet. Just don’t furrow your brows too much,” Mom instructed. “You’ll be good for another six years at least.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-one. I won’t need Botox in six years.”
“I’ll quote you on that.”
I raised my brows then quickly pulled them back down, aware of the wrinkle-causing gesture. “You’re insane.”
“The most interesting people always are.”
I rolled my eyes then walked across the room to pull my clothes from the dryer. “How’s the bun in the oven going? You okay?” I asked with concern. I knew Zane was taking good care of my mom, but I still worried.
“I’m fine. Fat, but fine.”
“Mom, you’re pregnant. Not fat.”
“I can’t see my toes. The distinction does not matter. I can’t even pick up Rocko. I can’t get his little body over my giant stomach. I feel like a T-Rex. My arms aren’t long enough,” she complained.
I laughed. “Only two more months to go.”
She groaned into the phone. “Why would you say that? Two months is forever . Especially if I have to be on bed rest like the stupid doctor and my stupid husband keep threating.”
I froze. “Bed rest?” I repeated, worry creeping in. I got that prickle back in my mind. I reasoned it was out of worry for my mom, but I squinted into the darkness beyond the glass door across from me, which lead to a section of my backyard. The laundry was on a lower level than the rest of the house. I found it calming being down here, but I was starting to feel creeped out.
I didn’t know why. Duke was upstairs watching “the game.” Which game was anyone’s guess, but he was hanging out since Sam and Wyatt were at a party and Noah was at an indeterminate location. He did that sometimes, sneaking off to see people he didn’t tell us about. It irked me, but I had to be patient and trust he’d talk to me when he was ready.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” she snapped. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I’m the mom. I should be the one worrying about my spawn, not the other way around. Especially since my oldest spawn is a freaking rock star and my youngest one tied up two kids at daycare today while swearing like a trucker.”
I let out a snort. “Rocko tied kids up?”
“It’s not funny. He tied the knots so well the teachers actually cut the kids out. A three-year-old that can tie sailor’s knots. I’m going to kill my husband when he gets home. He’s probably hiding at the club after he heard my latest voicemail.”
I smiled once more, trying to get rid of that prickling feeling. “He knows when to fear a pregnant woman’s wrath, smart,” I
“I’m glad you got away, Lexie. You needed a holiday. You work too hard,” Mom declared, jerking me back into the present.
I bent over and put the last of the clothes in the washer, turning it on. “I need to work hard. Rock star isn’t exactly a part-time job. It’s an all-or-nothing kind of gig.”
“Yeah well, don’t take it too serious. The stress of it will give you wrinkles. You don’t want to have to get Botox at this young age.”
“You’re saying I need Botox?” I asked, touching my forehead self-consciously.
“No, not yet. Just don’t furrow your brows too much,” Mom instructed. “You’ll be good for another six years at least.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-one. I won’t need Botox in six years.”
“I’ll quote you on that.”
I raised my brows then quickly pulled them back down, aware of the wrinkle-causing gesture. “You’re insane.”
“The most interesting people always are.”
I rolled my eyes then walked across the room to pull my clothes from the dryer. “How’s the bun in the oven going? You okay?” I asked with concern. I knew Zane was taking good care of my mom, but I still worried.
“I’m fine. Fat, but fine.”
“Mom, you’re pregnant. Not fat.”
“I can’t see my toes. The distinction does not matter. I can’t even pick up Rocko. I can’t get his little body over my giant stomach. I feel like a T-Rex. My arms aren’t long enough,” she complained.
I laughed. “Only two more months to go.”
She groaned into the phone. “Why would you say that? Two months is forever . Especially if I have to be on bed rest like the stupid doctor and my stupid husband keep threating.”
I froze. “Bed rest?” I repeated, worry creeping in. I got that prickle back in my mind. I reasoned it was out of worry for my mom, but I squinted into the darkness beyond the glass door across from me, which lead to a section of my backyard. The laundry was on a lower level than the rest of the house. I found it calming being down here, but I was starting to feel creeped out.
I didn’t know why. Duke was upstairs watching “the game.” Which game was anyone’s guess, but he was hanging out since Sam and Wyatt were at a party and Noah was at an indeterminate location. He did that sometimes, sneaking off to see people he didn’t tell us about. It irked me, but I had to be patient and trust he’d talk to me when he was ready.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” she snapped. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I’m the mom. I should be the one worrying about my spawn, not the other way around. Especially since my oldest spawn is a freaking rock star and my youngest one tied up two kids at daycare today while swearing like a trucker.”
I let out a snort. “Rocko tied kids up?”
“It’s not funny. He tied the knots so well the teachers actually cut the kids out. A three-year-old that can tie sailor’s knots. I’m going to kill my husband when he gets home. He’s probably hiding at the club after he heard my latest voicemail.”
I smiled once more, trying to get rid of that prickling feeling. “He knows when to fear a pregnant woman’s wrath, smart,” I
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