The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (18 page)

A sound from the bed made me glance over and nearly jump out of my skin when I saw Mozart standing there on his hind legs, tipping his head to the side and staring at me, his bushy tail giving the occasional twitch of interest.

I jerked upright in my chair, immediately shielding my dick from him. “What the hell, you little perv? Did you really just watch that?”

At my voice, he darted away and disappeared back under the bed. I sniffed in disgust—more disgusted with myself than my pet—and quickly cleaned my mess, then tucked my cock away before Mozart tried to cop another glimpse of it.

After I picked up my pen and tapped it against my notepad, I sighed in defeat. The adrenaline rush from getting the Chicago gig was officially dead. I wasn’t able to write another word for the rest of the night.

I finally dropped off to sleep around eight the next morning after tempting Mozart back into his cage with some sunflower seeds.

By ten, my phone started blowing up. Okay, fine, I got three texts and then a phone call. But for me, that was busy. I ignored the texts but groaned and swatted my arm out blindly for my phone on my nightstand when it just kept ringing.

After I slurred out a hello, Pick’s way too awake voice blared in my ear. “Hey, I got another house to check out. You in?”

I wiped my hand over my face, yawned, and then sat up. “Sure. When and where?”

“I’ll pick you up in ten.”

He hung up on me, and I shook my head, not sure why he kept asking me to tag along. Then I went to erase the texts he’d sent, only to discover they weren’t from him. All three were from Sticks.

Hey, just checking in to make sure you made it home okay and your dad didn’t sneak in and suffocate you in your sleep last night.

The next :
This is where you answer and tell me you’re fine. You can even add a “now fuck off” if my worry irritates you.

And finally:
Seriously, man. Are you dead or just pissed at me?

Having pity on him, I typed back.
Not dead, just sleeping.

He shot back an immediate reply.
Shit, sorry for waking you. Forgot you work so late. But glad you’re alive. Try to stay that way. We kind of need you next Saturday for the Chicago gig
.

Grinning, I shook my head and told him I’d see what I could do. Then I tossed my phone back onto the nightstand and rushed to yank on some clothes before Pick showed up. I snagged an apple that I’d bought for Mozart and was just polishing it off when my brother pulled up to my door in his Barracuda.

“So which neighborhood are we going to this time?” I asked as I slid into the passenger’s seat.

When Pick answered me as he shifted the car into drive, I gave a low, impressed whistle. “Nice.”

A proud grin twitched across his lips. “Nothing’s too good for my family.”

“Which reminds me,” I said, settling deeper into my seat and tipping my head back to close my eyes. “Don’t you think you should actually, I don’t know,
propose
to Eva first before buying a house with her?” They called each other husband and wife already, as did half the group we hung with, but they’d yet to tie the actual knot. “Or do you not go for that kind of traditional shit?”

“Oh, I’ve proposed.” Pick sent me a smug, secretive smile as he wiggled his eyebrows. “And we’ve even set a date...in about a month, actually. Which reminds me, you going to be my best man or what?”

I choked on air. After sitting upright and pounding on my chest with my fist, I sent him an incredulous glance. “What?
Me
? What about Mason?”

Mason would be the obvious choice. He was Reese’s man, and since Reese was Eva’s cousin and best friend, she’d no doubt be the maid of honor. Besides, the four of them hung out a lot, or so I’d heard. He had to be much closer to Mason than he was to me.

But Pick only shrugged. “I’m sure he’d understand that I’d rather have you stand up with me.”

Shaken by such a declaration, I rubbed my hands over my face. “You seriously don’t have a problem with who my dad is, do you?”

“What do you mean?” He glanced at me, clearly confused.

I sputtered out my disbelief. “What do you think? He...he killed your mother.”

After squinting as if even more boggled by my explanation, he murmured, “She was your mother too.”

I blew out a breath. He definitely wasn’t the type to put the sins of the father on the son, that was for sure. “I still can’t believe you know everything already,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “I kept wondering why you never asked about her.”

He shrugged and turned down a nice, quiet residential street that had me staring out the window and salivating at all the amazing houses. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“It’s not a pretty story,” I said, watching a mother with two small boys open the door to one house and step outside. They looked like a happy, healthy family together.

I glanced away.

“I didn’t figure it was.”

“She talked a lot about you...and your dad. She told me all kinds of shit she probably never should’ve.” Like how she’d never forgiven my father for stopping her home abortion attempt that he’d walked in on in their bathroom when she’d been pregnant with me.

“But she loved him, if that’s any consolation.” I glanced his way. From the expression on his face, he was soaking in every word and wanted to hear more. “She was sixteen and he was nineteen. All she ever called him was Chaz, so I don’t know his full name, sorry.”

Pick gave a small shrug, letting me know that was okay. He was learning more about his sperm donor than he’d ever heard before.

“Her family didn’t approve of them being together. He was a high school dropout who drank a lot, and it didn’t look as if he’d ever aspire above the mechanic job he had.”

Pick glanced at me sharply. “Mechanic?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was into cars too. So, anyway, when Mom—Polly—left home to be with him, her family cut all ties with her. She got pregnant almost immediately, and then went into labor on the same day your dad was killed in a drive-by shooting at the garage where he worked.”

I rushed the last part, not sure how Pick would take it. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, but he said nothing. He only slowed the car in front of a two-story with a For-Sale sign in the yard, pulled to the curb and cut the engine.

Then he blew out a breath. “So, he’s dead too, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head sadly. “She was pretty upset and couldn’t handle a new baby so soon after what happened, but she always talked about how much she regretted leaving you. She never tried to find you again, though; she was convinced you had to be in a better place.”

I didn’t mention how many times she’d told me over the years that she wished she’d left me and kept him instead.

“Well...” Pick said slowly, staring straight ahead out the window. “That’s something, I guess.” Then he glanced at me and lifted his eyebrows. “Ready to look at this place?”

I had upset him. Feeling shitty about that but no with idea how to fix it, I nodded and opened my door. “Let’s do it.”

I didn’t really want to look at houses anymore, so as soon as we met with the realtor and he started showing us features, I said, “You might as well save it, man, and just show us the backyard first.”

Pick laughed while the other guy sent me a funny look. But we got to see the backyard first, and as soon as disappointment glinted across my brother’s face, I knew he hadn’t yet found what he was looking for.

Waiting until we were back in his car and driving away from the house, I finally let my curiosity get the best of me. “So, are you ever going to tell me what’s up with the backyard thing?”

Pick sent me a small frown, then groaned and admitted, “You’ll never believe me.”

I shrugged. “Try me.”

“Okay, fine. I’ve seen it before. In...like, a vision.”

One eyebrow shot up. I wasn’t as startled by what he said as I was by learning he was actually into that. I never would’ve taken him as the type.

Lifting a finger, he warned, “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t believe that shit either, but it’s fucking true.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“When I was a kid,” he went on with a reluctant sigh, “I had an...encounter once, with this witch lady. Like a true witch, who sold potions and shit and told fortunes from her home.”

“Okay...” I said slowly.

“I’m not fucking lying,” he muttered defensively.

I laughed and lifted my hands in surrender. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I went to her place to throw a rock through her window because she’d upset one of my friends, but she caught me and put her hands on my face. I don’t know what the hell she did, but I suddenly had all these visions, like little flashbacks, but they were flash-
forwards
. I saw Tinker Bell, and Julian, and Skylar in them...ten years before I even met Eva or the kids were ever born. We were living as a family in some house that I only saw from the backyard, and...” He glanced at me. “You were in one of the visions too.”

“
Me
?” The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood on end.

Pick nodded. “You were at my wedding reception, in a tux, over by the sound system at Forbidden, exactly how you have the stage and everything set up now. That’s why I didn’t turn you away when you showed up that first day, asking about playing there. I’d seen you before. I knew you had to stick around long enough to be at my wedding.”

“Shit,” I said, stunned by everything he’d just told me.

“Oh, and by the way, the first song Eva and I have to dance to is ‘Baby Love.’ Don’t forget that.”

“Shit,” I said again.

He grinned. “Too much to take in all at once?”

I shook my head but said, “A little bit, yeah.” Then I turned fully in my seat to gape at him. “You’re not shitting me, are you?”

He shook his head. “Not even at all.”

“Huh.” I tapped my fingers against my bottom lip to the rhythm of “Baby Love,” because now that song was stuck in my head. “So, let me get this straight. You’re searching for that backyard you saw in your vision during all these house hunting trips?”

When he nodded, I snorted. “Well, that’s just stupid.”

“Excuse me?” He shot me a surprised scowl right before he pulled down the alley to my place and stopped in front of my door.

I only shrugged, not apologizing. “The way I see it, you already have the best parts of the dream. The woman and the kids, right?”

“Right,” he said slowly.

“So, why don’t you just enjoy them and let the rest of it fall into place on its own. Stop trying to force shit to come true, because hell...someone else could still be living in your dream home. It could be years before it even becomes available for sale. Why torture yourself—and Eva—with turning everything else down and upsetting her in the process, when you could just be
enjoying
the best parts together, right now?”

Pick was thoughtfully quiet before he murmured, “Good point.” Then he glanced at me and grinned. “It’d sure make Tinker Bell a lot happier if she actually felt as if she had a say-so in deciding where we lived.”

“Then...there you go.”

“Damn.” He huffed out a small laugh. “Why didn’t I think about it that way?”

“I guess you just needed your little brother around to slap some sense into you.”

He grinned, genuinely pleased by my answer. “So you’re finally ready to admit we’re related, huh?”

I glanced out the window toward the rusted metal door that led down to my apartment. “I suppose I should, since I’m going to be the best man in your wedding, and all.”

When I risked a glance his way, he beamed at me and reached out to ruffle my hair, like he was some kind of older brother.

I kind of wanted to hang out with him some more, but it felt too risky, like something bad would happen if I stuck around him too long, and I’d lose him, so I mumbled, “See you around,” as I opened the door.

But Pick grabbed my arm. “Hey, wait.”

I glanced back at him.

He turned his attention to my front door as well, but his gaze seemed to linger on the three deadbolts keeping it shut. “You haven’t heard from your father again since last night, have you?”

I groaned. “Jesus, you sound like Sticks. No, he never showed up here, and I never saw him at the bar after you left.”

“Good.” Then he used his teeth to play with his bottom lip ring. “What’s up between you and your new drummer anyway?”

That question caught me totally off guard. “Nothing. Why?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. You two just seem awfully close for just meeting.”

I blinked, not sure what he was leading his questions toward. Slowly, I said, “Yeah, I guess. I like him. He’s funny, has good taste in music, and can play the shit out of the drums.” And he had an uncanny way of making me tell him all my personal drama. Plus I felt a strange connection to him.