I flinched hearing the tremble of worry in her anger. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry? I’ve been worried sick, kid. We thought you were dead and we couldn’t put a freaking missing persons out on you because of the letter and voicemail crap you left to let us know you were taking off. The cops refused to consider it a missing-persons case because you said you were leaving indefinitely. All you had left were a couple of months and we could have declared you legally dead because you haven’t touched any of your money. How did you survive without money? What have you been doing, you little brat?” She ended on a yelled sob.
My God.
Gayle never cried.
“Gayle . . . I . . . there aren’t enough sorrys in the world.”
She sniffled. “You bet your ass there aren’t. Oh my God, Skylar. I’m so mad at you but I’ve never been happier to get a phone call in my life.”
Tears of gratitude welled in my eyes. “I took too long.”
“Yeah, you did. So why now and not then?”
“Time,” I said. “That’s the only answer I can give. It was like I was sleeping for a long time and now I’m finally awake, and I can’t believe that I put you all through this. I woke up with a million apologies to give.”
“Where are you?”
I told her. Everything. The whole sordid story. The only thing I left out was my romantic relationship with Killian, so unfortunately, she didn’t get to know how good things were for me now.
Still, as she listened patiently, I felt the knot in my stomach shrink a little bit more.
NOT EVEN FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER I hung up with Gayle, my phone rang. It was an LA number and my thumb hovered over the accept button for a few seconds as I fearfully considered who I would get on the end of the line.
Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be easy.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I answered.
“Skylar?” Brandon asked, sounding disbelieving. “God, is that really you?”
“Brandon?” I slumped on the couch, closing my eyes. It felt like years and years since I’d heard his voice. “It’s me.”
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. When Gayle called, I wasn’t sure she was for real. It still doesn’t feel real. Say something else,” he demanded.
I smiled through renewed tears. “I’m so sorry.”
He went silent.
“Brandon?”
“I am so angry, Sky.” Tears filled his words, sending my own spilling down my cheeks. “I’m so angry with you but I’m so fucking glad to hear your voice. I was so worried you hurt yourself or someone hurt you. Why did you leave? Why couldn’t you stay and let me help you?”
I sobbed uncontrollably, listening to the tears in my best friend’s voice, a guy I only ever saw cry once and that was at my mother’s funeral. I’d hurt Brandon. I’d hurt my family.
He let me cry, patiently waiting for me get a hold of myself.
“I’m sorry for that too.” I wiped at my cheeks. “You don’t need to hear that from me. You deserve an apology.”
“I deserve honesty.”
“You do.” I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “I wish I had a better answer than this but here is the truth: I was a fucked-up, selfish kid and it took me too long to pull my head out of my ass.”
“Gayle said you were living on the streets. God, Sky, when I think what could have happened. And who is this guy? This label guy? Did he blackmail you? Because it sounds like he blackmailed you.”
“How did Gayle manage to tell you so much in less than fifteen minutes?” I said, awed at her ability. I’d been on the phone with her for over an hour.
“So, it’s true? He blackmailed you?”
The thought of him thinking badly of Killian caused a tightness in my chest. “No. It was complicated. Killian has helped me a lot. He gave me somewhere to stay, clothes, food, and I’ve been writing new music . . .”
“You have millions in the bank. Why the hell did you need to rely on this guy?”
I sucked in a breath. “Because I knew once I called Adam, he would call Gayle, and she would call you. I left it so long to come back to you all that the longer I waited, the more terrified I got at the idea of facing you. I was a coward.”
“What did you think we would do?”
“Hate me,” I answered immediately. “You’re the only family I have left, and I treated you like crap. So yeah, I was terrified of you hating me.”
Brandon was silent so long, I thought my worst fear had come true.
“I’m angry with you. But I could never hate you. I love you. You’re my family. But you put me through hell, Sky. You put me through hell. Then I keep reminding myself that you were already there. In hell. That I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. But I kind of do because I loved Angie too. I know it’s not the same, but I lost her too. You could’ve come to me.”
Fresh tears scored hotly down my cheeks. “But I couldn’t, Brandon. It wasn’t just about losing my mom and losing her the way I did. It was about Bryan and Micah and the band. I was so miserable in that life but I didn’t want to let anyone down. When Mom died, it was easier to walk away from the music but not from the years I’d wasted avoiding her because of how unhappy I was.”
“Gayle told me about Bryan. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”
“I didn’t want to face it. Facing it meant telling my mom, and I didn’t want her to resent me. I did a lot of running away back then. And I kept running. However, I’m not running anymore.”
“Okay.” He let out a heavy exhalation. “There’s so much to say and talk about, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Can I come to you? The band is on a break so I’m staying with Heather in LA. I could get on a plane today.”
The thought made my stomach flip-flop but I couldn’t say I wasn’t going to run anymore and then do just that. “I’d like that.”
* * *
THAT NIGHT KILLIAN CAME OVER and held me while I let myself get lost in my thoughts and emotions. He didn’t make me try to articulate them. He let me be.
The next morning, I got a text from Brandon to let me know he’d landed at Heathrow and would be in Glasgow by five o’clock. Killian had left early, as always, to fit in his workout and would be on his way into the office. I called him to tell him about Brandon and the line went quiet.
“You’re not okay with this?” I surmised by his silence.
“You’ve been really lucky here, Skylar. This is a pretty laid-back city and if you have been recognized, no one cares enough to plaster it on the internet. But put you and another band member together and you’re definitely going to get attention.”
“He’s coming to the apartment. We’ll stay inside.”
More silence.
“Killian, this is a good thing. If I can make peace with Brandon, with Austin, and yes, even with Micah, then I can really start to move on. And that’s what you want, right?”
“Of course. You’ve just . . . You’ve come a long way. I don’t want anyone derailing you.”
I smiled at his overprotectiveness. “Trust that I’m strong enough to handle this now.”
“I do trust that. I’ve always believed in you more than you’ve ever believed in yourself.”
I love you. I struggled to hold the words back. “I’ll call you when Brandon leaves.”
“Maybe I should come over? Meet him.”
“I think I need to do this alone.”
“You call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
It was hard to concentrate the rest of the day. I wandered around the apartment, almost feeling like I was losing my mind. Finally, needing something to do, I sat down with my guitar and without even really expecting or meaning to, I wrote a song.
Realizing hours later that I’d barely eaten a thing, I’d gotten up to make myself a salad for dinner when my cell rang. Not recognizing the number, but seeing the Glasgow area code, I hesitated answering it. Then I realized it might b
e someone from Skyscraper.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Sky, I’m sorry,” Brandon burst out breathlessly down the line.
His tone made my heart speed up. “For what?”
“For not telling you that Micah came with me and then took off from the hotel without me. We haven’t even checked in yet. He must’ve stolen the bit of paper I had with your address on it because I can’t find it, and I’m guessing he’s on his way there now. But give me your address and I’ll be right there.”
The thought of seeing Micah made me more than a little nauseated. “Oh . . . Oh, okay. What should I expect here, Brandon? Is he coming here to verbally attack me?”
He sighed. “He’s . . . I don’t think he even knows. I think he just needs to see you. To see for himself that you’re alive and you’re okay. But even so, this is my fault, so give me your—”
“Excuse me, are you Brandon Kline from Tellurian? Was that Micah Murphy who just left? Oh my God, this is so cool!” a female Scottish voice in the background cut him off.
“Uh, yeah, hey,” he said distractedly. “Nice to meet you.”
“Can we get a selfie?”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something, guys. Later, okay. Thanks.” Another heavy sigh. “Shit, Sky, sorry. Give me your address.”
I felt like I had a bunch of bees buzzing around my ears. “Were you and Micah just recognized?”
“Yeah, we’re not exactly easy to miss.”
That was true. They were both tall, good-looking guys, and Brandon was built like a linebacker. Recent photos of them online showed Brandon with a full beard and Micah with a lot of scruff. Tattoos covered seventy percent of their bodies. Alone they drew attention; together they would definitely draw recognition.
Shit.
“Look, Gayle said you don’t want the press knowing your business right now and I get that. We’re not going to bring that on you. Tell me where you are and I’ll come fix this.”
I gave him my address.
“I’m leaving right now.”
Feeling my nerves completely rattled, I paced the apartment, my heart jumping at every little sound until it was almost a relief to hear the buzzer for the downstairs door. I couldn’t bring myself to go to it at first, but there was no running away anymore.
When it buzzed again, I hurried over to the intercom and hit the speaker. “Hello?”
There was a moment of silence and then the intercom crackled. “Sky?”
The sound of his voice brought back a wave of memories. Those memories felt like they belonged to another person, to another life, and the fact that I felt so adrift from those memories was achingly painful. “Micah?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he breathed. “Can you let me up?”
I pressed the buzzer and stepped over to the door to remove the chain.
Resting my palm against the door, I waited, my breathing growing exponentially shallower as I waited for Micah to come up on the elevator.
Even though I heard his footsteps approaching, I still jumped at his loud knock on the door.
Fingers shaking, I unlocked and slowly opened it.
Green-gold eyes blazed into mine.
“Micah.” Every inch of me hurt. It felt like . . . grief.
His own expression seemed filled with the same emotion.
And I braced, watching that grief transform to anger.
When he suddenly came at me, I tensed, unsure, only to freeze entirely as he hauled me against his chest and crushed me to him. Realizing he was hugging me and not killing me, I closed my arms around his back and held on.
He didn’t smell like Micah. Micah used to smell of pot and beer. Other times of perfume and sweat. There were rare times when you could smell soap and shampoo beneath the other scents that more than hinted at his lifestyle.
But soap and shampoo were all I could smell now.
“Micah,” I mumbled against his chest.
He squeezed me hard and then gently let go of me, only to cup my face in his hands so he could stare at my face. “I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you, Skylar Finch.”
Since kissing wasn’t an option and killing was not preferable, I went with neither and gently extricated myself so I could close the door.
“We have a lot to talk about,” I said.
He nodded, his eyes dragging down my body and back up again. “Brandon filled me in on some.”
“Why didn’t you wait to come here with him?”
Micah looked at me incredulously. “Because you and I need to talk on our own. With Brandon and Austin, you left the band. With me . . . you left me.”
“That’s not true,” I replied, walking away from him down the hall. I heard him following me into the apartment. Still, after all this time, Micah couldn’t see past us. “Brandon and Austin were my family. They’re like my brothers. I left them too.”
“It’s not the same.” He ran a hand through his hair, absently taking in his surroundings before turning his attention back to me. His face was unshaven and somehow that added to his gorgeousness. A long time ago I only had to look at him and I’d get butterflies. Although I felt many things looking at him now, I didn’t feel that attraction. His attractiveness felt like a fact rather than something that provoked a feeling in me, other than nostalgia.
Had it really been love between us or merely an infatuation?
“Where’s Austin?” I feared he hated me and that’s why he hadn’t come.
Micah seemed irritated by the question. “He’s doing Wild. We can’t get a hold of him.”
“Doing what?”
“Wild. You know that book. Or it might be a movie. Something that involves hiking the Pacific Crest Trail,” he said. “His girlfriend, Selina, talked him into it.”
I smiled at the idea of Austin doing something for a girl. Both he and Micah had been the one-night-stand kind of guys. Brandon had always been the relationship type. For a long time, none of his relationships had lasted until Heather. She was a stylist he’d began dating before my mom died. According to the media, they were now engaged.
Austin never seemed to want that. I hadn’t seen anything in my googling about a girlfriend.
“Selina. Have they been together long?”
“A couple months.” Micah shrugged. “Can we talk about this later and instead talk about the million fucking apologies you owe me?”
My response was immediate. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Micah. I’m sorry for running away. I’m sorry for punishing you through the years. I’m sorry for sleeping with you and leaving you the next day and disappearing off the face of the planet. I am sorrier than you could ever possibly know.”
For a moment, he stared at me. Finally, he gestured. “Gayle said you’d been living rough. That things have been hard. But you look better than I’ve ever seen you. I like the hair,” he said, his big puppy eyes wounded and accusing.
I fingered the short strands. “I want to tell you about it. However, I want to hear about you first. I heard you went to rehab.”
His beautiful mouth twisted into a sneer. “You were keeping up with us while we were left in the dark about you?”
Apparently, his anger wasn’t going away anytime soon, and I got that. I did. I indicated he should sit on the couch while I took the chair. He folded his tall body onto it and waited.
“I only recently found out. I had no access to the internet and had no desire to have access to the internet until a couple of days ago.”
“You didn’t care?”
“Of course, I cared. That’s why I didn’t check up on you. I cared so much, it was killing me. All of it was killing me and the only way I knew how to survive was to push it all away. For a while, I actually thought you were all gone. Ghosts. No . . . it was more like I was the ghost. Like I’d died and left your world behind. I needed it to be that way. It was the only way to get through the grief.”
“You seem pretty together now. How come you can handle the grief now and you couldn??
?t then?”
“Time,” I answered as I’d answered Gayle. “And I’ve made friends here. Met someone who knows what it’s like to lose a parent.”
He beat his fist on his chest, his face red with frustration. “I could have been that friend. I grew up in the fucking foster care system, for Christ’s sake, Skylar!”
I flinched but refused to turn away from his fury. “It’s not the same,” I said as gently as possible. “Yours is a whole other kind of pain that I can never understand. And mine . . . well, I wish you knew what it’s like to have a parent love and support you but you never had that, Micah. My friend had that and understands the kind of pain I’m going through and the kind of anger and regret that lives inside you. That never goes away, no matter how or where or whom you move on with.”
“So you let strangers help you heal? Great.”
I let his anger roll over me, trying not to let it grab hold. “Isn’t that what you did? When you went to rehab?”
That gave him pause. “I also went to therapy.”
He’d been brave enough to do what I couldn’t. “I’m glad.”
“It wasn’t only because you took off. Although that was the catalyst. After you left my drinking got out of control. Brandon said it was rehab or I was out of the band. I couldn’t lose the band. So I started rehab, started therapy, and it helped a lot. It made me realize how much you hurt me when we were kids when you chose the band over us.”
Tears of guilt and regret blurred my vision. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“It was . . . you were, like, the first person I let myself love. I stopped loving people when I was kid because they always threw me away. But I let myself love you—I trusted that you loved me back. That you wouldn’t throw me away.”
The tears let loose.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. My therapist said I should be honest with the people in my life. You hurt me, Sky. So I punished you. Because I knew you loved me and I hated that it wasn’t enough. But it was enough to inflict pain as payback.” His eyes blazed with regret. “Do you forgive me?”
“I forgive you.” I wiped impatiently at my tears. “Do you forgive me?”