Wreck the Halls

She was almost smiling at Beat when she caught herself and broke eye contact.

Trina stabbed the desk with her index finger. “Here is what I have to say. If you disagree with me, Oc, I’ll leave, and another thirty years might go by until we cross paths again.” She paused, shifting in her seat. “But the way I see it, Fletcher has had too much business in my life. He’s had too much of an effect for such a worthless piece of garbage—and I just can’t stand to see him have any more.”

“He came for our kids,” Octavia breathed.

Trina nodded. “Came between our kids.”

“He’s breaking up the band. Twice.”

“Only if we let him.”

Octavia’s eyes took on sharp focus, catching Trina’s gaze and holding—and it was an incredible thing to witness. Beat would tell the story a thousand times over the course of his life and never be able to do justice to the magic that wove the two women back together right there in front of their very eyes. It was almost a visible stitching of the disrupted air between them, a magnetic force that lifted them out of their chairs at the very same time, like two monoliths rising from the earth.

Trina raised an eyebrow. “Is this gig happening, or what?”

“Oh, it’s happening. Right after we tell Fletcher Carr to keep his poison away from our families.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Trina smiled and scooped up Octavia’s phone from its resting position on the desk, handing it to her former—er, current?—bandmate. “Accept his offer to join the reunion.”





Chapter Thirty-One




Melody watched, incredulous, as the former enemies huddled together to discuss their plan, leaning into each other’s sides, uproarious laughter erupting between them, as if thirty years of vitriol and anger had never happened.

She and Beat had done the impossible.

They’d reunited Steel Birds.

They’d gained everything in the process—friendship and love and personal growth. But they’d lost it all, too. For one brief, shining moment as she watched the two legends re-form their once-in-a-lifetime bond, she wondered if her pain might have been worth the outcome. Maybe. Yes? But when Beat moved to stand in front of her, her confidence in that answer slipped and scattered.

Nothing was worth this.

Loving him so deeply and having to live without him.

“Melody, can we talk?”

There was nothing more enticing than the idea of being alone with Beat somewhere. Retreating to their own little world where they were the only inhabitants and the rest of the planet was inconsequential. But pretending the hurt he’d caused wasn’t a sharp, lingering thing would only make it worse. He’d promised her that night in her apartment to be truthful with her, always, no exceptions. They’d come so far where his trust was concerned. But at the first opportunity, he’d gone back on his word. He might have done it for noble reasons, to protect her, but she didn’t want to be protected when they could be a team, instead. She was stronger than that now. “I think it might be better if I go.”

Panic flared in his features. “Please. Don’t leave.”

“Mom,” Melody called, desperation rising inside of her to get out of there. Before she gave in and let Beat’s presence sink too deep where she’d never get him out. Maybe that was already the case and she was delusional to think she could save herself now. But she had to try. She’d fought so hard to create standards for herself and others. No way she was going to compromise them now. “Mom, when you’re done here, take an Uber back to my place, all right? Stay as long as you want.”

Both women regarded Melody and Beat with troubled eyes.

“Okay, Melody Anne,” Trina said finally.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Octavia asked hopefully. “Surely I can track down some beignets.”

“Another time,” Melody said, throat stiff.

Beat cleared his throat hard. “I’ll walk you out.”

Refusing the offer would have been childish, so she nodded once and moved toward the doors. As soon as she laid her hand on the knob, a wave of reluctance washed over her. She could hear Danielle on the other side, arguing with the network. The cameramen were talking about the best route to take back to Brooklyn. I just want to be alone. At the very least, she didn’t want to be filmed for a while.

Learning the real reason behind Beat’s sudden distance, followed by the emotional curveball of reuniting Steel Birds—actually managing the lofty goal they’d set out to accomplish—Melody was restless and keyed up and needed some time to decompress. The cameras made that impossible.

“What is it?” Beat asked, close to her ear.

Her body warmed, her nipples slowly hardening into peaks. “I just don’t want to be filmed for a while. I want to get away from the cameras.”

Beat hummed in his throat. “There’s a service elevator my mother takes sometimes if she doesn’t want to run into any fans outside. It lets her out in the boiler room and she takes a set of stairs up to the street. You can exit on the opposite side.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and something dangerous inside of her outright purred. “I’ll take you.”

She tipped her chin toward the door. “How are we going to get past them?”

“Us?” He scoffed, turning the knob. “We can do anything.”

Three heads came up when they left the office, though Danielle continued to spit technical jargon at whoever was on the other end of her call.

“Just showing her the bathroom,” Beat said casually, ushering Melody through the doorway.

Melody didn’t miss the suspicious look in Joseph’s eyes, but he let them pass.

Beat’s hand remained at the base of her spine, just above the battery pack, as they walked through the all-white living room and dining room. When Melody guessed they would have hooked a right for the bathroom, Beat surreptitiously glanced behind them and hustled her to the front door instead. Being in cahoots with Beat reminded Melody of the night of the snowball fight when they fooled the cameramen by dressing like Vance and Savelina, and now the center of her chest ached.

Closing the door of the penthouse behind them with only the barest click, Beat took her hand and they jogged side by side past the public elevator, through another metal door, into an industrial concrete room with a different elevator.

Beat pressed the call button and it started to whir, approaching the top floor.

That hand was still on her back, but his thumb stroked sideways over her spine now, making her nipples tingle, her thighs loose. And when he very purposefully turned off her microphone, a wild whirlwind of sound started in her ears.

“I can figure it out from here,” she said, voice thready.

“Mel, please,” he said gruffly. “Just talk to me for five minutes.”

“Eventually I will, okay? But I can’t right now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I miss you too much to think clearly.”