Savage Rhythm (25 page)

“Yeah, well, if he does, you call, ok?”

“I promise.”

“Eight hours, depending on the flight and everything, ok? Sit tight.”

Molly hung up with a sense of grim determination. Everything had definitely changed, all right. She was going to have to get to the airport, find a flight, get Lydia set up in a new place…

“Everything ok?”

Molly looked up to find Harlow sticking her head in the door. It was only then that Molly realized she was crying.

“Ok, obviously everything is not ok,” Harlow said. “But you just made my brother’s life, so tell me: Can I help?”

“No?” Molly said. “I don’t know. I have to get to the airport. I have to get a flight back to L.A. like, now. My sister is…she’s in trouble.”

“Oh God.” The sibling thing hit Harlow hard.

Molly stood up, running her hand through her hair, trying to remember that she was a badass. She said, “I’m sorry, I have to go. Can you give him a message for me?”

Harlow blinked. “Who? Declan Donovan?”

“Yeah, Declan.” It had been a while since he’d been ‘Declan Donovan’ to her. It made Molly smile wistfully. “Can you tell him…oh God, I don’t know. Tell him I had to go, tell him it was an emergency, tell him I’m sorry. I have to get a cab…”

Molly cursed inwardly. She was rambling, disorganized. Panicked. These were not the traits of a badass who was about to go take charge and get things done; this was what she’d been like years ago when confronted with her own ruined life. It had taken a lot of work to get past that. She wasn’t going to backslide now.

“I can give him your message, no problem,” Harlow said. “But Molly, there is literally zero chance that you will get a cab right now. It’s raining, it’s late at night, people are getting out of bars, there’s the shift change, and there’s a livery strike. If you wait an hour—”

Molly shook her head. “No, I’ll miss the next flight. I promised her tomorrow morning. I can’t…”

Molly didn’t even want to finish that sentence. She couldn’t bear to break another promise about her sister right now. The only person she knew who could help her was on stage right now, and the idea of throwing this on Declan’s lap, of asking him to deal with it… She was not ruining this tour for him. And that wasn’t what they were to each other.

No, don’t think about him. Do NOT think about him
.

She wouldn’t be able to hold it together if she did. If she thought about how much she truly needed him right now, about how what she wanted from him was what he’d said he couldn’t give, about how she had to leave, knowing…

“Ok, I gotta figure something out,” Molly said. “It was nice meeting you, though, Harlow.”

“Oh damn it,” Harlow said, digging in her pocket. She produced a set of car keys and pushed them toward Molly. “I would be out of my mind if anything ever happened to Dill. You have to go. Just give me your phone number so I don’t feel like such a crazy person, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but take my car.”

Molly stared at the keys. “What?”

“Seriously, I might snap back to sanity at any moment. Just text me where you leave it at the airport and overnight the keys to the address I send you, ok? And remember I’m broke and this is how I get my brother to and from his weird computer camp where he’s on scholarship, and…oh, you don’t care about any of that, just freaking take it.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Harlow sighed. “Look, if someone hadn’t done something this insane for me once, I would have…”

Harlow stopped. She almost seemed to blink back tears, but maybe Molly had just imagined that. Maybe Molly just saw something of herself in Harlow.

“Look, if somebody hadn’t helped me out, I don’t know where I’d be. I might be dead. I definitely wouldn’t have Dill. And I have no idea what would have happened to him,” Harlow said, obviously working to keep her voice steady. “I kind of owe the universe. And you are a nice person who went out of your way to make my brother happy. Plus, I can always go after Declan Donovan if I don’t get my car back,” she said, grinning. “Now, just take the freaking keys and go help your sister before I change my mind.”

“Oh my God, you are serious,” Molly said, handing over her phone so Harlow could dial her own number while Molly watched in disbelief. She wasn’t quite conditioned to accept random, genuine acts of kindness from the world, but screw it—she’d worry about karma and divine plans later. She grabbed the keys and the proffered parking ticket.

“It’s in the lot on Thirty-Seventh Street,” Harlow called after her. “It’s a 1992 Corolla, but it runs. You pay for parking, and just, like…I don’t know, go east and then follow the signs? There are maps in the glove box. Please don’t kill my car!”

“Deal,” Molly said.

She raced out of the labyrinth below Madison Square Garden, taking the first door marked with a big red exit sign, and emerged out into a loading dock, surprising a bunch of smokers who were sheltering from the rain under the overhang.

“Which way is Thirty-Seventh Street?” she shouted.

“You serious?” a guy in a janitor’s uniform said. He hooked his thumb to the right. “That way. But it’s raining!”

Molly was already running up to the street. She was aware.

~ * ~ * ~

Declan had looked for her. He’d looked for her throughout the whole set. At first he’d thought she was just hanging so far back in the wings he couldn’t see her, but there was that feeling in his chest, that emptiness. She wasn’t fucking there.

He sang the song he’d written anyway, because he’d said he would. Even if the only person meant to hear it wasn’t there.

Declan powered through his set, channeling it all the way he was meant to, thinking about her. But as soon as the lights went out, he was striding into the wings.

He was right. She was gone.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

No one answered. It wasn’t the usual congratulatory, hedonistic vibe you got after a show. Maybe his mood had something to do with it. His mood, and the presence of a little kid.

In fact, the blonde woman with the blue and red streaks and her little brother were the only ones who could meet his eye.

“One more time,” Declan said slowly. “Where is she?”

He was trying to keep his voice calm, trying to ignore the nausea he felt building in his gut. He knew his physical reaction right now was due to his own issues and had nothing to do with Molly. Declan had known lots of women who’d pulled disappearing acts, chief among them his own mother—which would account for the nausea—but that wasn’t Molly.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. Or pissed off.

The blonde chick raised her hand slightly and cleared her throat. “I, um, gave her my car,” she said. “She gave me a message for you.”

Declan stared at her.

“She said she was sorry,” the blonde woman offered.

Declan closed the distance between them in only a few strides, remembering too late not to bring his full physical presence to bear; the woman and her little brother were both tiny, both nice people. Declan took a deep breath.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Hi, I’m Harlow,” the woman said, one eyebrow all the way up. “You’ve already met Dill. Molly asked me to tell you that she had to leave, that it was an emergency, and that she was sorry. It was…”

She seemed to hesitate. Declan didn’t have the patience.

“I care about this woman,” he said through gritted teeth. “And something made her leave in the middle of the show. Tell me what it was.”

“Something about her sister,” Harlow admitted. “It sounded…I don’t know, it sounded important. I can’t believe I gave her my car.”

“You what?”

“I gave her my car. To get to the airport. I’m just a sap for little siblings in trouble, and she was so upset…” Harlow drifted off. “She’s not a nutjob or anything, right?”

“How long ago?”

“Um. A couple of hours. At least.”

“Shit,” Declan said, then looked down at Dill. “Sorry, little man. Davey!”

Declan was already in motion, his mind racing as the road manager came running up. Declan almost felt bad for the man.

“Get this woman a car,” he ordered, pointing at Harlow. “Give that kid the mic from the show. And give me my phone.”

“Declan, what are you doing?” Brian called out.

Good question. All Declan could think about was how upset Molly would have to be for a random stranger to lend her a car. That kind of thing didn’t happen. It especially didn’t happen in New York.

Thinking about Molly in that state, alone, made him feel sick.

“Postpone the next show, Davey,” he said grimly. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Where the fuck do you think you have to be?” Brian yelled.

“No idea.”

But he bet Adra knew.

chapter
26

Molly maxed out one credit card and put a major ding in another one booking a last minute flight to L.A.X., and spent so long explaining why she didn’t have any luggage that she had to seriously sprint to her gate. As if the drive to J.F.K. hadn’t been stressful enough, in the rain, not knowing where she was going. All in all, Molly didn’t have time to sit and think until she got on the plane. And then they sat there for ages, giving her way, way too much time to do all that thinking.

Because all she thought about was Declan.

Which was unexpected. But now that she’d talked to Lydia and knew what the situation was, she’d already formulated the beginnings of a plan. She was upset and stressed and whatever, but all that was expected, and Molly’s inner badass knew that she would handle it. It felt like she had it under control, kind of.

Declan was something else entirely.

Molly wrapped herself in the thin airline blanket and shivered. She was soaking wet, cold, and sad. And she had no right to be sad, at least. She’d called Adra from the car—a harrowing experience in its own right—and arranged to have someone leave her miraculously still-functional LeBaron at L.A.X. so she’d have a ride back home, and, rather than demand to know why Molly was leaving the tour or asking about the book, Adra had only wanted to know if Molly was ok. Adra, who was already back in L.A., had even offered to pick Molly up. Molly had said no, because she wasn’t sure if Lydia wanted to deal with a bunch of new people at the moment, and it wasn’t Molly’s call.

But she’d been touched to the point of tears. She couldn’t believe how much her life had turned around in such a short time. Didn’t realize how lonely she’d been before until she could look back while surrounded by all these wonderful people. She had no idea what she’d done to deserve any of it.

Especially Declan.

Molly hugged herself tightly as the lights in the cabin were turned down and knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep much. She shouldn’t have left him. She didn’t know what else she could have done, knew she couldn’t have sat there
not
doing anything after that phone call, but she still felt like she shouldn’t have left him.

Which was crazy, because they weren’t… Molly didn’t know what they were. She thought Declan didn’t, either. Which somehow made it scarier. Because she knew now, sitting alone in an airplane, wishing more than anything that Declan was sitting beside her, that she loved him.

“I am so screwed,” she whispered.

No one answered.

Well, no, maybe not screwed. Maybe not entirely. She thought about all the things Declan had given her in such a short time, all the things he’d taught her, even beyond her submissive tastes—how to let go, how to let herself feel, how necessary that safety valve was for her—and she knew all those lessons would stick. They were
hers
now. Part of her. She’d always have them.

But the idea of being without him still felt like a smaller kind of death.

So Molly spent the whole flight trying to reason with her heart. It wasn’t something she’d ever had success with before, obviously, but Molly was the type to take on impossible tasks.

She was actually moderately successful.

By the time they started their descent into L.A. and the rest of the passengers were waking up from their incredibly uncomfortable naps, groggy and grumpy and realizing they now had three extra hours in the long day ahead of them, Molly had convinced herself of one immutable fact: Life on a tour bus wasn’t real life.

She and Declan had this insane attraction, this whirlwind emotional whatever, and all of it was predicated on the intense intimacy and forced confinement of a tour bus.

Which wasn’t real life.

It
wasn’t
real.

All of which left Molly completely unprepared to encounter Declan Donovan in her very real home.

***

Molly set her jaw and physically forced herself to make the turn. Pleasant Valley Park. She didn’t think it would bother her this much to come home. She’d lived there her whole life, and suddenly every approaching mile felt like pushing against an imposing, malevolent force. Driving the last leg had been like biking uphill, every second a battle against the natural forces of the universe.

Nobody and nothing wanted Molly in Pleasant Valley. The bright sun felt hard and merciless, the heat was oppressive. Molly kept looking around to see faces she knew but that didn’t know her—or at least who she was now. And that was the problem. All these people, they all knew her as someone else. Someone they thought had slept around as a teenager and gotten pregnant, someone who’d let herself become a victim of everyone who had decided to hate her for that fairly unremarkable event, just because Robbie had decided it would be so.

She hated coming back here. And like with so many things in the past twenty-four hours, she didn’t realize how much she had changed except in contrast to who she’d been in this place, even a few weeks ago. Molly could feel her old self creeping back on her, like an old haunted dress that demanded to be worn. Like some demented form of ghostly peer pressure. There was this weird desire to fall back into old patterns, to accept old truths—that she wasn’t a woman people respected, that everybody hated her—and she had to fight to shake it off, hunched over in her car, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands.