Maybe—

  “Hey, Shug?”

  “Yes. Sorry.” I smile and even through the connection, I know he can see the relief and love in my eyes. “What?”

  “The two weeks hasn’t turned into a month.”

  I nod, not trusting my voice. Not wanting to show Jagger the worry I’ve hidden from him this whole time. “Okay.”

  “I’m glad you decided to stay at the house. In Washington.”

  “We did.” I couldn’t bear to be the one who walked away with so much at stake. “We stayed.” I smile through the lone tear that slips over. “I’m still fighting.”

  “Me too,” he whispers. “Don’t plan on me ever stopping. Be home in a few days.”

  Our eyes hold before Jagger demands more attention, pulling laughter from us. And for the first time in thirteen days, I feel like I can finally stop holding my breath.

  Home.

  Is that what this is? Because right now, home feels like wherever he is . . . and he isn’t here.

  But he will be soon.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Vince

  I open the front door in silence, wanting to surprise Bristol and Jagger. I also want to rush in, wrap my arms around them, and never let go.

  Talk about how quickly life changes.

  A part of me wants to call out. To announce I’m home. To get the fanfare that comes with it. Something I’ve never experienced before.

  The other part of me wants to walk in quietly and surprise them. To see the looks on their faces when I do. To make it about them and not about me.

  I saw the worry in Bristol’s eyes the other day. The fear that I was going to run. If she only knew the only place I wanted to run was back to her.

  I set my stuff down in the entryway and move quietly into the great room. My feet falter when I see Jagger. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter with a partially built Lego set in front of him. His brow is furrowed as he reads the instructions.

  My entire body fills with a love like I’ve never known before.

  How could I fear that I’d ever treat a child like my father did me? I don’t understand how that’s even possible when I look at him. I love him. It’s an insane concept considering the short amount of time we’ve known each other, but I do.

  “Jagg,” I whisper and catch him in the hug he gives when he launches himself at me.

  I hold on. I breathe him in. I love on him in a way my father never did to me.

  What’s with this dad shit and getting emotional?

  “You’re back.” He leans back and looks at me, arms still around my neck.

  “I am.” He studies me as if he’s making sure I look the same. “Where’s your momma?”

  “Shh.” He holds a finger to his lips. “She’s on a Zoom with her professor. I’m supposed to be quiet, and if I am, she’ll give me a treat when she’s done.” I take in the smear of chocolate on his lips. He notices that I do and smiles sheepishly. “I might have already snuck one.”

  “So I noticed.” I laugh and lift him up and set him on the counter in front of me so we can be pseudo eye to eye. “But I’m glad she’s on the Zoom because I wanted to talk to you about something, man to man.”

  “You do?” He sits a little straighter. “Even before you see Momma?”

  “Even before I see your mom.” I rest my hands on the tops of his knees.

  “You’re not leaving again, are you?”

  “No,” I say immediately. “I’m here. I’m back. And Jagg, buddy? I’m ready to handle all of your awesomeness.”

  The words are out before I can stop them, but the minute they are, I wonder how his young mind will compute them. Will he realize I’m his real dad? Or will he understand that I’m just a man making a choice . . . and I choose him?

  His eyes widen and his lips purse. “Does that mean we get to live together? Like all the time?”

  I chuckle and reach out to ruffle his hair. “Well, that’s what I needed to talk to you about. You see, you’ve been the man of the house for seven years now. I need to ask you if you think it would be okay if I shared those duties with you.”

  “Really?” His cute nose scrunches up and his chest puffs out.

  “Really. I love your mom an awful lot. I have for a long time. And—”

  “Do you think you could love me too?” His bottom lip trembles and my heart all but shatters.

  “What I was going to say, Jagg, is that I already love you too.”

  A tentative smile spreads as he blinks back his tears. He whispers, “I already love you too but felt silly saying it.”

  I pull him against me and just hold on. His little hands press against my back and his warm breath hits my chest. “Don’t ever feel silly telling someone you love them.” I press a kiss to the top of his head.

  Did my dad ever do this to me? Did he ever tell me he loved me?

  It doesn’t matter, Vin.

  This is what matters. Jagg is what matters. Doing it right this time is what matters.

  “What do you say?”

  He looks up at me with eyes identical to mine. “You’d have to marry her, you know.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “That’s the plan, buddy. That’s most definitely the plan.”

  “Jagger? You okay? I heard . . .”

  Bristol stops in the hallway when she sees me standing there. Her hair is piled on top of her head. Her face has the barest hint of makeup. Her skin is golden from the sun.

  She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  And then she’s jogging toward me, jumping in my arms, and wrapping her legs around me. I stagger backward from the force of her momentum, my grunt making Jagger giggle, but welcome every single inch of her clinging to me as if she thought she’d never see me again.

  For a man who likes to wander, I’ve finally found the one thing that makes me want to stay put. To settle.

  “You’re here,” she says, her face nuzzled against the curve of my neck, her lips moving against my skin as she speaks. “You came back to us.”

  My hand is in her hair as I breathe in everything about her. This is the shortest amount of time we’ve ever been apart and yet it feels like it’s been for-fucking-ever.

  “I told you I would.” She lowers her legs and my hands are on her face, brushing loose strands of hair away. I brush my lips against hers, the sob in her throat making my chest swell.

  If Jagger weren’t sitting here watching us, I’m pretty sure the kiss would turn into us stripping out of our clothes and frantically fucking on the kitchen counter.

  “I know you did, but . . .” She shrugs sheepishly and blinks back tears.

  “Momma, you’re not supposed to cry when you’re happy.”

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  “He hasn’t even told you the good part yet,” Jagger says.

  “What good part?” Bristol eyes me.

  I laugh and shake my head at Jagger. “You’re stealing my thunder here, Jagg.”

  He shrugs. “Then tell her.”

  “Vince?” Bristol asks.

  “So I did this thing while I was gone, Shug.”

  “What type of thing?” Her eyes narrow.

  “I bought us a house in Los Angeles.”

  Bristol blinks rapidly as she tries to take in what I just said. “What do you mean, you bought a house?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like. Six bedrooms. Four baths. A big yard with an incredible pool and view of the city. A detached granny flat for when either of your parents want to stay over. A house. Something for us to start new in.”

  “That sounds like a palace, not a house.” Laughter bubbles up in her throat as Jagger sucks in a breath.

  “You told me we always strike the match but then it burns out. I figure, a house is made of wood. Wood is considered kindling. So this time when we strike the match, we have enough to keep it burning for a lifetime.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious.” I run my hands down her sides and link my fingers with hers. She glances over to Jagger, who has his hands clasped over his mouth in excitement.

  “Buddy?”

  “He’s ready for my awesomeness, Momma.”

  She chokes over another sob and looks at me. “That’s the best way I could tell you that this is real,” I murmur and brush my lips to hers again, reveling in their softness. In the moment as a whole.

  “You sure?” she asks cautiously.

  “I’ve never been surer of anything. I’ve let you walk away one too many times in my life. You’ve let me, too, and for damn good reasons. But not this time. Not ever again.”

  “You’re putting roots down,” she whispers.

  I nod. “The only person I’ve ever wanted to put them down with is you. Is with Jagger. Are you ready to strike that match with me?”

  “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  EPILOGUE

  Vince

  One Year Later

  Jagger’s nervous laugh carries across the room.

  “It’s okay. Try again,” Gizmo urges as he steadies the vibrating cymbal that Jagg just hit, which messed up the beat he was learning. “Stiffen your wrist this time.”

  Jagger draws in a deep breath and tries again. He creates a groove on the drum kit. It’s juvenile in nature but pretty damn fucking good for an eight-year-old who’s just learning.

  “That’s fucking perfect,” Gizmo says and then scrunches his nose. “Sorry. Your mom will have my ass for that.”

  Jagg laughs again but then puffs his chest out, trying to be cool. Older. He loves being backstage with us.

  “It’s okay. I’m used to it. My dad says it all the time.”

  Dad.

  The goddamn word still squeezes my heart like a vise every fucking time he says it—but in the best way.

  I catch his eye. He grins and holds up the drumsticks that seem so big in his little hands.

  “Looks like you’ll have to buy a set of drums next,” Hawke says as he looks Jagger’s way. “We better watch out or he’s going to come after all our jobs.”

  “No shit,” I say and take a pull of my beer.

  To say we’ve had to make an adjustment to our past backstage antics is an understatement.

  Is there still drinking and partying? Yes. Are women still brought back for Rocket and Gizmo? Definitely.

  Just a little more on the sly these days.

  But I’m fine with all that because fuck if I’ll ever get used to looking up and seeing my bandmates—my brothers—hanging with my son and treating him like he’s one of their own.

  You failed, old man. You thought a son would break me. Wrong. He made me more of a man—a better man—than I ever could have imagined.

  Hawkin nudges me.

  “What?”

  He lifts his chin toward the doorway. “Look who made it after all.”

  I still do a double take every time she walks in the room. It’s impossible not to when you spend years telling yourself you can’t have someone, then make it so you have a lifetime to spend with them.

  And yes, the proposal is coming. She knows it. I know it. But there’s no fucking rush because us being together forever? That isn’t a question. What is though, is how to propose? How do I make that moment as special as she is?

  Have I fucked up over the last year? Slipped a little in worrying about who I am? Yeah. I’m not proud of it, but it takes more than one year to undo a lifetime of abuse.

  But Bristol has waited me out each time. She’s talked me through it. She’s held my hand—or poured me a drink—and not stopped loving me. Often reminding me that my different is my beautiful.

  Just like hers is.

  She high-fives Jagger where he sits at the drums—he says she can’t hug him around the guys—and then looks up and meets my eyes.

  That look still packs one hell of a punch.

  I rise from my seat and walk over to her.

  “Hey, look,” Rocket says as he enters the room. “Crystal’s here.”

  Bristol just gives him the side-eye and shakes her head at this running joke and then says, “Real funny, Rock. Real funny.”

  “Crystal. Crystal,” Jagger chirps, having no idea the significance behind the term.

  “Hey, you,” I say, hooking my fingers in her belt loops and pulling her against me so I can brush my lips against hers.

  “Hi.” She brushes my hair off my forehead, her smile holding some kind of secret.

  “You’re dressed up. You look incredible. And you have that look in your eye. What’s going on, Shug?”

  “We’re celebrating.”

  “Celebrating?” I ask, before brushing another kiss to her lips and then whispering in her ear. “Is this the kind of celebrating that makes Uncle Gizmo watch Jagg while we go ‘celebrate’ in the dressing room alone?”

  She lifts her eyebrows and trails a finger down my chest. “This is the ‘Bristol just got accepted to law school’ type of celebration.”

  “No way.” All my thoughts fade away as her words hit me.

  She nods frantically with a smile that could light up the whole goddamn state. “Really. I just found out. I’m stunned. Shocked. I mean . . .”

  “You did it.” I pick her up, wrap my arms around her, and spin her around. She slides back down and finds her mouth with mine as she does. “You really did it. I’m so proud of you.”

  All those years on her own. Being a single mom. Working a job and going to school. Sacrificing her sleep and her sanity to give everything to Jagger while still trying to chase her dreams. Finding the courage to tell McMann no thanks when he offered her job back to her.

  All of them just realized for her.

  “Dreams do come true,” I say.

  She reaches out and cups my cheek. “They really do.”

  EPILOGUE

  Bristol

  Later That Night

  “So we’re going to do something a little different in the show tonight,” Hawkin says as he moves across the stage, pulling my attention from my phone. What mischief is he up to tonight?

  I know the performance by heart. Bent’s set list. The jokes they tell. The looks they give when one of them fucks up. The banter they repeat like a rehearsed skit.

  It’s not that I’m bored by it, but let’s just say I don’t hang on every note like I did the first twenty-something shows of this tour.

  So when Hawkin breaks the routine, it most definitely grabs my attention.

  I glance toward the doorway Vince’s personal assistant took Jagger through to go to the bathroom. If there’s something different tonight, I want him to see it.

  “You see, two years ago, like any family, we”—Hawkin points to Vince, Rocket, and Gizmo—“needed a little break from each other.” Boos fill the audience. “I know, I know. I felt the same way.” He holds his finger up. “But something really good came out of that break. My brother here.” He walks over and hooks an arm around Vince’s shoulders. “Had a single that went crazy popular, and I want him to sing it for you tonight.”

  What? This is most definitely a change.

  “Really?” Vince asks, playing it up.

  “Really.” Hawkin walks over to a waiting stagehand and grabs Vince’s acoustic guitar. He holds it out to Vince and exchanges his bass with it. “You see, it’s a good song. Fucking great actually. I’m kind of jealous I didn’t write it myself.” He laughs. “So, will you play it for us?”

  The crowd goes so wild I have to plug my ears.

  “Okay. Okay,” Vince says. “I’ll play, but I’m going to need some help.”

  “What, are we not enough?” Rocket asks, propping his elbow on Hawkin’s shoulder.

  “You’re enough, all right,” Vince jokes, “but someone I know has been working really hard on learning this song and wants to help me play it tonight.”

  My head can’t process what my heart already knows, seconds before Jagger shuffles onto the stage with his guitar in hand. The one that matches Vince’s. I gasp and put a hand to my heart, the tears already forming before they even do anything.

  Jagger reaches Vince and looks up at him with a huge grin. “You want to say hi to everyone, Jenzo?”

  He lowers the microphone and Jagger waves to the crowd, his high-pitched voice booming out of the speakers when he says, “Hi, everyone.”

  The crowd says hi back as flashes light up the darkness.

  Each one of the guys fist-bumps Jagger and ruffles his hair as he’s getting set up beside Vince. My heart pounds in my chest and every mom cell in my body is overwhelmed seeing the two of them together like this.

  “So, I wrote this song a little while ago,” Vince says as he takes center stage. “It was for the only woman I’ve ever loved. A woman who has never given up on me or her dreams. A woman whose different is her beautiful.” He adjusts the mic and looks out toward the press box where he knows I am. “Jagg and I have added an extra verse to it tonight. I hope you enjoy it.” More cheers. “You ready, buddy?”

  “Yep. Ready to rock,” Jagger says and elicits laughter from the crowd. My heart is in my throat as I watch them.

  The familiar chords of Sweet Regret fill the arena. The cameras to the big screens zoom in on Jagger. On the furrow of his brow. The bite of his teeth into his bottom lip in concentration. To the way he positions himself on his guitar.

  And when the camera zooms out, both of my boys are side by side, almost identical in all things but height. I couldn’t be any more in love with them than I already am.

  Vince begins to sing. He pulls me under with his sexy voice and the lyrics I know by heart. With the ones that convinced me we had to say goodbye. With the ones that made me love him even more.

  And when he finishes the chorus the third time through after the bridge, he looks straight into the camera and sings to me.

  Time lost. Time apart.

  But we found our way, new lives to start.

  Healed hearts. Our souls consoled.

  You and me, baby, let’s grow old.

  I look at him. I look at you.

  The love we have keeps shining through.

  I did forgive.