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  If I’d been her? I would’ve been irate.

  Tilting her chin up, I kissed her again, softly this time, just a quick taste even though a sharp, throbbing pulse beneath my skin demanded I do more, take more, touch more.

  We have the rest of our lives. Take your time.

  “I missed you.” Unwilling to cede any distance, I spoke against her lips. “I’m not here for very long, so we need to make plans to—”

  “Hey!” Mona stiffened at Lisa’s shrill interruption, her eyes flying open. My mouth landed on her jaw instead of her mouth as she gave the third person in the room her attention.

  “Abram,” Mona’s twin demanded, “what did you promise Tyler?”

  Unwilling to give Lisa my eyes—not while this woman I’d been craving was finally right here—I brushed my lips against Mona’s temple and nuzzled the soft texture of her hair, answering Lisa distractedly, “He said he knew where you lived and would take me here, so I said I’d play Pirate Orgy’s new single as part of our set during a few tour stops.”

  I didn’t know why I was explaining myself. This was a waste of time. I was here, Mona was here, I’d been thinking about nothing else but hoping she’d still want to see me. And if she did, I’d been obsessing about what I would do to and with her body and brain.

  Discussing stuff that didn’t matter with Lisa—because it was already settled and done—was pointless.

  “Which tour stops?” Lisa sounded obstinate, like she believed she had a right to the information.

  “LA, Chicago, New York, and Miami,” I mumbled, while pulling Mona forward and against me by the fabric of her pajamas. I smoothed my palm down the length of her arm, entwining our fingers together. How many hours had I spent thinking about this? Hoping she would still let me hold her hand?

  Too many.

  We have time.

  Mona, splitting her attention between me and her sister, whispered sweetly, “I missed you too.” And that made me smile.

  But Lisa made a sound of indignation. “LA? New York? Why the fuck would you do that?” And that made me scowl.

  “Lisa.” Mona’s voice was beseeching, and I leaned away to study her profile. She looked fretful, unhappy. Damn.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  Curling my free hand into a fist, I gathered a steadying breath, filling my lungs before turning from Mona to face her twin. Never mind that I’d barely slept in almost thirty-six hours. Never mind Mona and I hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in almost a week. Clearly, if I wanted to spend any time with Mona, the sister would have to be dealt with first.

  “Let it go,” I said, deepening my voice so I wouldn’t shout. “It’s done, and it has nothing to do with you.”

  Lisa seemed to clench her jaw at my statement, her lips tightening, but kept her eyes—shining with accusation—stubbornly pointed at her sister. “You know what he did to me. And now your boyfriend is going to launch his career?” Ignoring me and addressing only Mona, her voice had become softer, and yet definitely angrier. “Fuck that and fuck you! You know that’s not okay. I’m your sister! Don’t just stand there and let him—”

  “Hey.” A sudden and savage spike in temper, the single word erupted from me, sounding like a bark, and Lisa’s startled glare cut to mine. “Back off.”

  Mona’s sister angled her chin, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You don’t tell me what to—”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t care who you are, no one talks to Mona like that. No one.”

  Lisa scoffed, sneering. “Oh yeah? You speak for Mona now? Give me a fucking break. She is one of the most intelligent, amazing, strong, capable people in the world. She’s a genius. She doesn’t need you intervening on her behalf. Mona can more than speak up for herself, and this isn’t any of your business, Abram.”

  “No. This isn’t any of your business, Lisa. You’re right about your sister. She is amazing, strong, capable, but she also has a huge and sensitive heart that you don’t seem to have a problem kicking around whenever it suits you. I see you’re angry. I get why. But your anger isn’t going to change a damn thing. Giving Tyler’s song a spot was my decision. Mine. Bullying Mona isn’t going to change my mind. You talk to her like the queen she is or shut the fuck up.”

  That made her flinch, her eyes blinking, a crack forming in her stony exterior as though I’d touched on a vulnerability, a fear. “I’m not—I’m not bullying her.” Her gaze, now looking agitated, shifted to Mona at my shoulder. “I would never do that, I would never—”

  “Yeah. You are.” Some protective instinct had me stepping to the side, blocking Mona from her view. She didn’t need this, especially not from her own sister. “She’s not responsible for your screwups. No one is responsible but you. You don’t like it? Too bad. You made the shit sandwich, now you have to eat it, all by yourself. Want to whine to someone? Call your brother. But back off Mona.”

  “Abram.” Mona squeezed my hand, her voice—again—sounded beseeching, and my name on her lips, in her lovely voice, acted like a pin puncturing my swelling fury.

  Turning, I stiffened at the sight of her conflicted gaze, and my stomach dropped. But I fought against the reflex to apologize. I was contrite, but I wasn’t sorry. I’d never be sorry for defending her. Mona’s sister—and her brother—they didn’t know her, didn’t understand how sensitive she was. They didn’t take care of her or look out for her like she deserved, like she needed. They made assumptions that were unequivocally false, and it pissed me off.

  I swallowed the reflex to say sorry, and I faced her fully. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the tender junction between her middle and index finger.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  Mona’s lips pressed together, her steady stare looking no less conflicted, maybe even a little resigned. “Give me a minute to talk to my sister.”

  My hands tightened on hers and a jolt of alarm made it difficult to breathe. I wanted to deny her. I wanted to drag her out of this room and apartment. I wanted to bring her back with me to the West Coast for the rest of the week and take care of her.

  I swallowed those reflexes too. Working my jaw, I nodded. I stepped forward and kissed her quickly. I pressed my forehead to hers.

  And, with effort, I forced myself to say, “Whatever you need.”

  3

  Celestial Mechanics

  *Abram*

  I waited in the room where Mona was staying, a small guestroom with a sleeper sofa and sparse furniture. Tearing off and tossing my outer layer of winter clothes to the dresser, I pushed my hands through my hair and fastened it back. It needed a cut.

  Though the space was cramped, I had an uninterrupted span of nine feet and paced—back and forth—while studying her phone number and email until they were branded on my brain. I would never be without a means to contact her again.

  You will see her again. After today, you can talk to her any time you want.

  As much as I told myself we had plenty of time, I couldn’t shake the notion that we had no time. In just a few hours, I needed to be on a plane. Despite acknowledging that this afternoon was just the first of many I’d be seeing her during the tour, purpose obsessed me, I was determined: we needed to make plans.

  Definite plans. Commitments of time. Promises.

  Unfortunately, after the shit-show with Lisa, everything I’d wanted to share and discuss and resolve with Mona had been eclipsed, muddied by her sister’s breathtaking selfishness. I couldn’t believe how Lisa spoke to her, and that Mona allowed it.

  You shouldn’t allow her or anyone else speak to you that way. You are so much more and better and worthy than you allow them to treat you.

  The words rolled around in my mouth, souring my tongue. I wouldn’t speak them out loud. They would undoubtedly lead to an argument and I wasn’t here to pick a fight. But it wasn’t just Lisa, her brother was just as bad. Even now, days later, the memory of my last conversation with Leo had me seeing red.

  “You’ll thank
me,” he’d said, sounding convinced. I’d kept my temper up to that point, listening to him call her cold and calculating, emotionless. Every adjective out of his mouth made me want to reach through my phone and punch him in the face. “Just listen to me, I’m trying to help you.”

  “I’m never going to thank you for this, Leo. And if you knew your sister—at all—you’d know that she is none of those things.”

  “Abram, man, don’t tell me about my own sister.” He sounded irritated. “I’ve known Mona her entire life. She’s my sister. She doesn’t even like people touching her.”

  I snapped. “And why the fuck do you think that is, Leo? You think people are just fucking born that way? You think that’s normal? Did it ever occur to you to ask her why that is?”

  “Would you listen?” Now he was yelling. “I’ve asked her, okay? I asked her why. I asked if anyone hurt her. She said no, flat out.”

  She said no? That was a surprise. Had she been lying? No. She wouldn’t lie. She wasn’t a liar, I believed that now. Mona didn’t lie unless it was to protect someone she loved, unless she felt like she had no choice. So maybe—like she said in Chicago years ago—it really is just as simple as: Mona doesn’t like unexpected touch.

  That didn’t seem right either. I’d touched her unexpectedly without her flinching away.

  Before I could think through this revelation, Leo exhaled loudly. “You’re being a fucking psycho about this. Stop. Just fucking stop. My answer is final. I’m not giving you her number so you can make an idiot of yourself. And yeah, she’s my sister, so I don’t want guys harassing her, okay? That includes you.”

  I rubbed my forehead, shutting my eyes, working to get my temper under control. “Then why don’t you call her and ask her permission? Can you do that? Please?”

  “No!” he shouted. Then he continued, quieter, “I know you’re mad now, but you’ll see I’m right.”

  I laughed, my chest, throat, and mouth full of broken glass, because what else could I do? “You’re an idiot.”

  He also huffed a bitter-sounding laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I am, because I’ll still be here, I’ll still be your friend when you come to your fucking senses.” Leo sounded tired, spent. “I’m just trying to save you from yourself, man. It’s not worth the pain, okay? Call me when you see reason.”

  Not worth the pain.

  Fuck it. The next time I saw Leo, I would punch him in the face. All those years, listening to him talk about Mona as though she had no feelings, feeding into this narrative about her being completely callous and inhuman-levels of resilient.

  Before Aspen, I’d believed him. It was easy and convenient to think of her that way.

  But now, I hated it. I hated how they and everyone else talked about her like she was this invulnerable, dispassionate alien thing, too perfect, untouchable, unknowable. At some point, Mona and I would have to discuss it, because I wasn’t going to be able to watch their continued abuse without seriously losing my shit.

  Something has to give.

  Mona opened the door and my head snapped up. Before she could close it, I was on her again, reaching for her hand to draw her through the opening, shutting the door, and pushing her back against it.

  Unthinkingly, acting on pure instinct, I fit my hands under her T-shirt, seeking her skin. Smoothing my palms up, down, and then around her sides to her back, I touched my lips to hers. My heart suddenly in my throat, my irate internal rantings about her shitty siblings faded to background noise. Suddenly, I didn’t want to talk or think about them at all. I didn’t want to give them another second of this precious time.

  Later. We would talk about it later. Much later.

  “Hey,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to mine, catching my bottom lip with a quick nip, and then moving her inebriating kisses to my cheek, jaw, neck. “Are you okay?” she whispered against my ear. She’d also moved her hands under my shirt, pausing for a split second, and then pulling me closer.

  I laughed, incredulous. “Are you kidding? I’m fantastic. Are you okay?”

  She tucked her head under my chin, her ear over my heart. “I can’t think of a time I’ve ever been better.”

  I laughed again, tightening my arms. Thank God she wasn’t pissed at me. Thank. God. I’d almost convinced myself she would be. This? Her reaction to my sudden appearance? It felt miraculous. Exhaling a long, quiet breath, I gave myself this miraculous moment, holding her, her holding me, and worked to memorize every touch, sight, smell—

  “You shaved your beard,” she blurted, yanking me out of my reflections. The statement sounded accusatory.

  For some reason it made me smile. “No, I didn’t. We just cut it closer.”

  “A lot closer. It’s basically gone.”

  “I can grow it back, if you want me to. It won’t take long. Just say the word.”

  Mona wavered before saying, “I can’t decide. I love your wizard beard, but I’ve missed your dimples.”

  My smile widened. “My dimples, huh?” If she wanted my dimples, they were all hers.

  “Oh yes.” She turned her face and placed a kiss on my shirt in the center of my chest. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I can’t believe I’m here either.” I allowed her to lean back just far enough for our eyes to meet. Again, I noticed how puffy hers were, how red, and was assailed with a forceful and frustrated sense of helplessness. “Mona, please believe me, I did everything I could to find your number or Lisa’s number. I had Marie use her contacts—a security firm here in Chicago—and they found nothing under your name, no driver’s license, no utility bills. Only a passport with your mother’s PA’s phone number and the Chicago house address, nothing else.”

  She gave me a wry smile. “Yeah. Sorry. That’s because—”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I get it, you don’t want crazies tracking you down. My number and details are similarly obscured. But Leo wouldn’t give me Allyn’s last name, so I couldn’t call her either. I just need you to know, I did everything I could to reach you as soon as I could.”

  “I could have called Leo for your number. I should have. I’m sorry too.”

  “No, no. It was on me. I asked you to trust me.”

  “I do trust you.” She beamed up at me, but I didn’t like the unsteadiness in her voice. It betrayed her words, made them ring false.

  “Hey.” Cradling her cheek, I traced the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, and whispered, “I promise, I will never give you a reason to cry.”

  Mona’s lips pressed together into a wobbly smile, her eyes glassy.

  I groaned. “What’s this? Tears?” I kissed her eyelids.

  She laughed and rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  I had my suspicions. My guess was that these tears were about many things, not just me, not just us. Of course, part of her upheaval over the last few days was about us. A lack of trust. She didn’t trust me, not yet, but it was clear she wanted to.

  Mona swiped at her cheeks, her smile now brittle. “I can’t seem to stop crying and I’ve never been a crier. It’s like I came back from Aspen broken.”

  Broken?

  I shook my head vehemently. “No. God, no. You aren’t broken. Mona, crying, feeling doesn’t make you broken. Stoicism does. Burying your emotions—from everyone, all the time—does.” I kissed her quickly again. “Don’t fight the tears. Maybe you’re crying so much because it’s the first time you’ve let yourself. Maybe they’ll stop, maybe they won’t. But you’re safe with me. Let them come.”

  She sniffled, her eyebrows pulling together. “You don’t think all this weeping makes me weak?”

  “No. I think it makes you brave, because it also makes you soft, and sweet, and honest. And those might not be parts of yourself that you value—or other people see as valuable—but those are the real, raw, essential pieces of you. You deserve to share them with someone, and if that’s me, I’m honored to be that person. I will always, alwa
ys treasure this side of you.”

  Her wide eyes moved between mine, breathtakingly, exquisitely vulnerable. I knew it was selfish but seeing her exposed and defenseless mollified a primal desire I didn’t quite understand. It made me feel stronger, essential, necessary in a new way. Maybe because I was now necessary to her?

  Whatever the reason, it also made my protective instincts swell. No one—and I mean No. One.—was going to fuck with her. Ever. No one would hurt her. No one would make her cry.

  Uh, she’s crying right now.

  Searching her face, I could see she was overwhelmed.

  So, I made my voice mock-stern, saying, “Crying is allowed—cry all day, every day—but no more apologies,” guessing she both needed and wanted a reason to smile.

  She did. And seeing her true smile made me smile in return.

  Sniffling, she lifted an eyebrow. “Okay. Crying is fine, but no apologies. What else is allowed?”

  My grin grew, my eyelids drooping, and I slid my hand from her cheek to the neck of her shirt, pulling it to one side, baring her shoulder. “I can think of some things. But first, we need to talk.”

  Her smile faded somewhat, became dazed, her attention lowering to my lips. She licked hers. “How long do we have?”

  I’d promised myself we wouldn’t do anything until plans and commitments were made, but I couldn’t help myself. Bending, I took my time biting, licking, and kissing the top of her shoulder. She shivered. She also tasted like heaven, and each swirl of my tongue increased the hunger.

  “Two hours.” My voice was low, rough against the wet spot. Trailing my lips closer to her neck, I took another soft bite. Now that her skin was exposed, I couldn’t stop.

  She started to moan. She stifled it, her fingers fisting in the front of my shirt as she offered more of her neck. “Only two hours?”

  “I have to catch a plane. We have a concert tonight.” Reluctantly, I lifted my head, capturing her eyes again so she could see my regret. In that moment, my responsibilities to my bandmates, to my record label and my fans, they felt like handcuffs and a jail cell.