She pushes off the kitchen counter and shakes her head, her eyes shadowing with sadness. “What the hell happened to you, Sof?”
“I became a mom, that’s what. And she comes first. Even before you.”
I rest my head against the back of the seat and blow out a long breath.
“How the fuck are we going to get home without being stripped naked by local fangirls?” Tate shoves his phone in my face. “It’s a motherfucking mob!”
I focus on the image on the screen. “Who sent you that?”
“Leila. Said she’s never seen them so bad.”
“Must be after you, bro,” I mutter, pushing his phone away.
“Shit, Con. I can take pussy, but not that much pussy. Well, not in one go, at least.” He smirks at me.
“We’ll just go through the woods,” Kye shouts from the other end of the bus. “Get them to park behind Sofie’s old place, and we’ll cut through.”
I swallow the bitterness at the mention of Sofie’s name. Obviously, though, I don’t hide it too well, because Tate nudges me in the ribs.
“Still brokenhearted, baby brother?”
I clench my jaw. “She disappeared without a fuckin’ word. It’s been two and half years. She ain’t my favorite person, but I’m not heartbroke.”
He laughs. “I’m messin’ with ya, man. Shit, doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re still hung up on her.”
I don’t deny it. I can’t help that I’ve still got feelings for a girl who ran out on me without a word—not even to Leila, and they were supposed to be best friends. I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing . . . or why she left.
And it ain’t for a lack of fucking trying. I spent six months chasing dead ends, running around in never-ending circles, with bitchy rumors being whispered in my ear.
“You guys say ‘fuck’ too much,” Jenna, our PA, says, perching on the table. “It’s not attractive, you know that?”
Tate smirks and spins in his seat. “Tell that to the girls begging me to fuck them.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” She rolls her eyes. “Look, Leila’s picture wasn’t an exaggeration. There’s a freakin’ news crew and reporters there waiting for you to arrive. I hope y’all brought your muscle, because you sent your security home.”
“Shouldn’t need security in a town with the population of a trailer park,” I retort. “We’re cutting through the woods. Get the driver to pull up behind the trees at 2402 Arcadia Lane.”
All of my brothers look at me, but I ignore them. Yes, I still know her address.
“Got it.” She nods, her red ponytail bobbing behind her. She turns away and disappears.
“Didn’t expect you to do it,” Kye answers. “What if she’s back?”
I snort. “She won’t be. Whatever made her leave ain’t enough to bring her back, or she never would have gone in the first place.”
I reach to my side for my headphones and put them on. The action ends the conversation, thank fucking God. Talking about the girl that broke my heart isn’t exactly on my favorite-activities list.
We—Dirty B., the Burke brothers, whatever you want to call us—could live anywhere in the country. We could relocate to New York or Los Angeles without blinking. But we don’t. We keep coming back to this damn tiny town where everyone knows the inside of everyone else’s asshole.
Why? I wish I damn well knew. If it was my choice, we would have stayed in LA when we went the first time. Now we’re looking at a couple of weeks in the world’s smallest town, surrounded by piss-ass tourists and screaming fangirls.
The deep beat of Nirvana pounds into my ears, and I look out of the window. Two days of driving on this bus and I’m more than ready to get off and into a real bed, even if it is in Shelton Bay.
As long as Mom has dinner ready, I’ll be good. Her cooking is the only good thing about “home.”
Trees, houses, roads, they all blur into one as we approach the bay. The sign is there, bold as brass, clear as motherfucking day.
Welcome to Shelton Bay.
Welcome to Memory Hell.
I yank the headphones off and silence my iPod. I throw both into my duffel and drop it on the seat next to me.
“Okay, boys.” Jenna reappears. “What’s happenin’ is you’re gonna get off the bus in five minutes. You need to detour far enough that you’ll hit your parents’ stretch of beach, then go through the back door. We’ll park the bus out front, and I’ll deal with the screaming, undoubtedly crying, mob.”
“Damn, Jenna. You’re a fuckin’ genius, beautiful.” Tate grins.
“And you’re a man-whore,” she replies with a sweet smile. “Five minutes, Tate Burke, then I want your playboy ass off the darn bus.”
He shoots her a wink, to my, Aidan’s, and Kye’s amusement. Jenna’s resistance to his advances is a long-standing form of entertainment. Truth is, Jenna’s happily in a relationship with one of our security guys. And we all know Tate wouldn’t touch her with an iron pole. He values his cock far too much to risk it against two hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle.
After a few minutes Jenna claps her hands. “All right, boys. Off. I’m in Raleigh for the summer with Jason, so I’m not far if you need me. Tate, Aidan, wrap it before you tap it, you man-whores. Kye, try to rein in your attitude, sunshine. And you—Conner. I want a smile on your face when you get back on this bus. You got it, gentlemen?”
I fake her a smile and kiss her cheek. “Give it four days. Tate will have you on the phone.”
“I know. He’s a big baby.”
My brothers follow me off the bus. The leaves crunch beneath all our feet, and despite how much I say I hate this town, I love this. I spent so damn long in these woods as a kid, climbing trees, running through the stream. Then as we got older, it became a hideout for me and Sofie, our private place in a public town. The one place we could come when we were sick of prying eyes.
I shake those thoughts off. Fuck it. Every time. Every time I get back here she’s filling my mind like an obsession.
I glance toward her house. Her dad’s house—or old house, whatever it is these days. I don’t even know if it’s been put up for sale or what. A shadow moves across the kitchen window as I stare, so I assume it got sold. It’s been six months since we were home last, long enough to sell a house in this town.