He looked over at the bed where Pixie was buried under the comforter, and then toward the walk through closet where Petal was out cold after her last feeding. His girls were safe, and knowing it was his job to keep them that way made him feel like a fucking giant. Maybe this was the purpose he needed in his life. Perhaps it wasn’t about keeping going until he was thirty-five and then trying to figure out what his life meant. In fact, he was certain of it. His job was to figure out what his life meant with Pixie and Petal, then decide if he wanted to commit to performing hard for another seven years.
Touring had always been one of his favorite things to do. There had been nothing better than a road trip with his best friends where they got to perform their greatest and newest songs in front of die-hard fans who loved them. But the idea of packing up and leaving Pixie behind in Miami sucked. Of course, he was going to try and persuade her to join them, but he had a feeling she’d want to keep working at Second Circle. Eventually they’d have to figure it out because if this all played out the way he hoped, he didn’t want to live in a different country than his wife.
Wife. The idea made him smile. He thought back to the time Trent had flown out to L.A., shortly after he and Harper had split up briefly. The guy had been a wreck and drunk twice over when he’d declared, “She’s already my wife in every way that matters; she can’t divorce me before we’re fucking married.”
Dred had thought it strange that Trent could be so certain, but now he finally understood what he meant. While he was the moody verse, Pixie was the catchy melody. His snowflake was the sweetest, purest hook. He made a note in his book. “The Purest Hook” would make an awesome song title.
Rustling over by the bed caught his attention, and he looked over to see Pixie sit up. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, stretching her head, revealing the little black vest she’d insisted on sleeping in once she’d realized Petal was sleeping nearby.
He shut his notebook and stood before walking to the foot of the bed. He crawled over to kiss her, her lips opening for him. The stirring in his gut was more than plain biology. He loved her.
“Wait,” he said and reached into his bedside table drawer, pulling out a small black bag. “I got you a gift. I totally forgot yesterday. You being here kind of threw me off my game.”
“You’ve got game?” Pixie asked with a grin, taking the box from him.
“Oh, gorgeous, I got eight inches of game right here,” he said looking down at his dick.
Pixie laughed. “You’re cute. Thank you, for this,” she said, slipping the ribbons open.
“Don’t ever use the word “cute” in a conversation about my cock. It’s all kinds of wrong.”
Removing the box from the package, she looked up at him with a look that said What did you do?
She flipped the lid open and gasped. “Oh my God, Dred. It’s beautiful.”
Dred reached over, pulled the silver ring set with diamonds and a square amethyst, which sparkled in the sunlight, and slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand.
Pixie clasped his face between her hands. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she said, kissing him between each pronouncement. “I have something for you.”
She shuffled out of bed and went into her carry-on bag. Quickly, she returned and handed him a small black fabric bag with the initials T.Z. embroidered on the front, which he guessed was homemade. He opened the drawstrings and tipped the contents onto his palm. Words choked him as he took in his anchor, seemingly mended, sitting there.
“You found it,” he said gruffly. He ran the leather through his fingers and stroked the anchor. He released the clasp and quickly put it on. “I can’t believe you went to look for it and fixed it. Thank you.”
“I knew how much it meant to you. I see how you tug on it when things are tough. I’m sorry I made you so angry you broke it.”
Dred sat onto his knees and pulled her to sit across his thighs. “I don’t ever want to hear you apologize for me being a dick. You didn’t make me angry, Snowflake. I made myself angry. Your asshole stepdad made me angry. What happened was all about my reaction to it.”
“All the same, I think I came to a conclusion last night.”
He rubbed his hand down her back, and she looped her arms around his neck. “Yeah, what was that?”
“I think I need to figure out what happened that night. There is no point in sitting here waiting for Arnie to hand me over to the police, and I don’t want to go to the police unnecessarily, so I think I need to go back and retrace my steps, see if I can find out what happened to Brewster. I mean I’m assuming he died because the photograph is so incriminating, but who knows?”
He’d come to the same conclusion. The only way to be free was to face it. “All right. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you the best lawyer. Where do you want to begin?”
“Back where it started, I guess. At mom’s trailer. Go see if she’s still there. If she’s not, then maybe one of her neighbors might be able to tell us where she went. She might know more about Brewster than I remember.”
“I want to help you do that. We should get Petal’s passport in the next couple of days and we’ll fly down there as soon as we can.”
“But what about the album and tour?”
“Fuck ’em both. This is more important to me. You are more important to me.”
She kissed him softly. “I love you, Theodred Zander.”
“I love you too, Sarah . . . ?” He wanted her to tell him, to trust him enough to know exactly who she was.