Her other friend approached then, at least I thought it was one of her friends. She was taller, obviously older, with dark Prada sunglasses and curves that went on for days. “Thanks for doing that. It’s been a hard day with the diagnosis—”
“Mom!” the girl snapped. “Don’t.”
“Diagnosis?” I repeated, my stomach sinking. And how the hell was this person her mother? She looked about my age, maybe a year or two older. Maybe. I couldn’t even tell. She was too damn beautiful for words. Why the hell did she look so familiar anyway? I couldn’t see her eyes, but I was instantly attracted, instantly wanted more.
The girl turned away quickly. “Let’s go, Mom. Apparently, I need to eat more.”
I felt that mom-glare all the way to my toes as she jerked off her sunglasses and eyed me up and down.
I nearly choked on my tongue. “Mrs. Connors?”
Had I just lost my friggin’ mind? Was I imagining shit now? Or had I actually conjured the woman I was just thinking of? Like a crazy person, my gaze whipped to the girl and her friend and then back to Braden’s hot-as-hell mom, my mouth forming the word “what” but nothing coming out.
“She’s been in remission,” Braden’s mom said with a hollow voice. “But today the tests said it might have come back. They aren’t sure, but—”
“What can I do?” I interrupted.
“I think you’ve done enough for our family, don’t you?” She didn’t say it as an insult.
I’d basically taken her son under my wing and made him one of the most famous stars on the planet. I’d toured with him. I’d helped him after there’d been a tragic shooting at his concert. I had tried to be his rock while his mom stayed home to take care of his two younger sisters. For all my fascination with her, I’d seen her maybe five times in the few years I’d known him, but every other time, her hair had been lighter and shorter. Amazing what darker hair did and, paired with those eyes…
I was drowning.
I know she was thankful that she’d been able to stay back and not worry about work while her daughter sought treatment.
His money provided them with everything.
And yet, money didn’t fight cancer, did it?
“Shit.” I hung my head and turned toward Braden’s little sister. “I’m sorry. I wondered why you looked familiar. Amelia, right?”
The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but hey, don’t worry. There’s a reason you’re my favorite. You saved us from having to throw dear Mom here on the street to sell her body. I mean, can you imagine?
“Amelia!” Mrs. Connors’ face flushed bright red. “I would never— I mean…” She looked ready to pull out her own dark luscious brown hair. “Low blood sugar. We really should get going…”
“Hey, wait.” I grabbed Mrs. Connors’ arm. “Give me your number.”
Amelia gaped between us, jaw dropped. “Mom! He’s like super famous. Stop stalling! Use your words—”
“I have words,” her mom snapped. “I’m just— I don’t know if that’s the best idea with— We have to go.” She turned on her heel and nearly sprinted in the other direction, apparently almost forgetting about Amelia, who stayed back with a smirk on her face.
“I know how this works.” I crossed my arms at the sixteen-year-old. “I give you something. You give me your mom’s number. What will it take?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Two backstage passes and a shout-out on your Instagram.”
“Steep.” I nodded and then held out my hand. “Deal, now give me her number.”
She let out a shriek while her mom finally realized that she’d stayed back to talk to me.
Amelia fired off the number, and I typed it into my phone with a grin.
“How old are you anyway?” Amelia just had to ask.
“Old as hell, just like your mom,” I said in a chipper voice and then, “thirty-six.”
She beamed. “Mom’s thirty-nine, though she tells everyone she’s still thirty-five.”
I glanced up at her mom, who was now holding her phone to her ear and glaring at us. “She looks like she’s in her twenties.”
“Believe me, I’m aware. Every single one of my guy friends is in love with her.”
“No doubt,” I whispered under my breath. “She dating anyone?”
“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t answer that question. You only asked for her number. Now you get to do the work, rockstar. It was lovely, by the way, doing business with you!”
“Hey, that’s extortion!” I pointed out.
She just shrugged and shoved her Pradas back up on her nose. “No, that’s good business.”
“Well, aren’t you terrifying.”
She did a mock curtsy. “Thank you.”
I shuddered. I’d dealt with enough teenage girls to last a lifetime. “Your mom’s waiting.”
“Bronte,” she corrected me. “Her name’s Bronte. Use it.”
I grinned. “Was that free?”
“Nothing in this world is free, Drew Amhurst. Nothing.” With a giggle, she was walking back toward her mom, and I was smiling like an idiot after them.
Drew Amhurst.
They always said my full name.
Always.
I wasn’t just Drew.
I was Drew Amhurst.
THE Drew Amhurst.
This was the first time in a long time I actually felt good about someone full-naming me. I waved at Amelia and watched in fascination as Bronte turned back and then jerked away.
I’d only ever interacted with her when she was at one of Braden’s concerts and hadn’t even been aware that they were in Seaside at the moment. Did they live here now? Or were they just visiting Braden? And how the hell was I supposed to dig for information from him when he’d rather bury my still-breathing body than give it to me?
I started walking slowly back toward the studio, my grin still in place. Maybe I wouldn’t leave for LA next week, after all.
Because something suddenly made me think that a little staycation was exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER 2
Bronte
I was at the beach house alone, the same beach house that Braden had owned before buying something bigger and gifting this one to me.
I needed the privacy, especially after dealing with paparazzi outside our small
