Savage Rhythm (26 page)

Thinking about Declan helped. Thinking about the things she’d experienced with Declan helped.

Maybe this place wasn’t any more real than a tour bus. Maybe the whole point was that Molly should get to choose what would be her reality from now on. She wasn’t sure what that would mean, exactly, but she was damn sure it wouldn’t involve this place.

And she was just as sure that she wouldn’t be that weak, traumatized girl in front of her sister. Lydia needed support, so support was what she was going to get.

Molly pulled the LeBaron up to the curb and stared at the car occupying her packed dirt driveway. It was a sleek silver BMW. It shined so brightly it was nearly blinding. Who belonged to
that
car? And then a moment later, it hit her: how had Lydia gotten here? It must be the father.

The
father
.

Molly threw her head back and laughed from pure joy. She had made so many assumptions, all of them based on her own crappy experience, all of them based, in the end, on what a supreme asshole Robbie had turned out to be. But maybe Lydia, thank God, had better taste in men. Maybe the father of Lydia’s baby was a good guy. Maybe he’d decide to actually be there for her, and double plus bonus points if the guy turned out to have the means to support her, too.

Well, assuming he wasn’t much older than her. Molly still might have some ass to kick. The BMW certainly raised questions. Molly wasn’t ready to relax, and she still had every intention of supporting her sister entirely if necessary, no matter what Lydia chose to do, but the idea that she might not have to do it alone was such a relief that Molly started to cry.

Like, really, really cry. Sobbing. That’s what she was doing. Ugly crying, in her car, outside her crappy old trailer, by herself.

Which was exactly how Lydia found her.

“Molly,” she said, tapping on the window. “You ok?”

Molly just stared stupidly for a moment. She hadn’t seen Lydia in over six months, and here she was, her hair tied back in a lazy ponytail, wearing her favorite Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans that didn’t much hide the little bump, if you knew to look for it.

And Molly knew. She couldn’t stop looking for it. She got out of her car and wordlessly walked over to Lydia—Lydia, who was looking at her like she’d just escaped from the nuthouse or something—and wrapped her sister up in the fiercest hug she could manage.

“Molly, are you ok?” Lydia asked again, her voice muffled. “What’s wrong?”

Molly choked on her little sister’s hair, determined to never let go.

“Nothing,” she sobbed. “Absolutely nothing is wrong. I am so happy to see you, Bug.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I have no idea,” Molly said, finally letting Lydia go from her death grip. “I missed you, Bug.”

“Well, don’t cry about it,” Lydia said, starting to tear up herself. “I missed you, too.”

Molly gave Lydia her best serious look and took her little sister’s face in both hands. “You know everything’s going to be ok, right? We’re going to make sure everything’s ok. No matter what, we will handle it. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “That’s what your friends said, too.”

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She didn’t have any…

“You know, if you’d waited for me,” a deep male voice said from the door, “you could have flown private, too.”

Declan Donovan. Leaning in the doorway of Molly’s house, arms crossed, eyes gentle, looking like everything Molly hadn’t allowed herself to dream she could have. Strong, dedicated, and here. Molly started to cry all over again.

~ * ~ * ~

The trip back to L.A. had been tense. Declan’s phone began blowing up almost immediately. First the guys had been pissed; postponing tour dates with no notice was a big fucking deal. Declan had explained that it was Molly, and it was a emergency, and Brian had backed off, but the suits back at the label and at Madison Square Garden had been less impressed.

Good thing Savage Heart was such a big act. Declan had never traded much on the power of fame and money, but he was glad to have it at his disposal now, because his mind was well and truly fucked. All he could think about was Molly. Not knowing what was wrong, whether she was ok, what had happened—it was all driving him insane. And he hated the idea of finishing the rest of the tour without her, found himself wondering whether he could do it all. Which was a whole other level of mindfuck when he realized what that implied.

So his phone kept ringing, but it was never the one person he wanted to talk to: Molly. Eventually he’d turned it off, but not before calling the one person he couldn’t blow off: Uncle Jim.

And
that
had turned out to be another mindfuck.

“We’re not going to make it fishing,” Declan had said. He had just landed in L.A. at the ass crack of dawn, Pacific Time, which meant Jim had already been up for a while on the east coast.

“What? I’m not calling about a goddamn fishing trip, though tell that girl of yours I want a rain check. I’m calling because Bethany’s done with her program. She’s got the all clear, and she wanted you to know, only you don’t pick up your phone.”

Shit.
Declan should have been on top of that. Bethany deserved real congratulations and support, and a whole bunch of other things.

“That’s fantastic,” he’d said. “But I can’t be there right now. I’ll call her.”

“You got something more important?”

Declan didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

There was a lengthy, suspiciously satisfied-sounding pause.

“Good,” Jim said, and hung up.

It wasn’t until later that Declan thought to ask himself how the hell Uncle Jim had known that Bethany was out of the hospital. But by then he’d already pulled into Volare, where Adra was waiting, looking almost as worried as he felt, and the whole thing came rushing back to him.

Right then he decided he’d cancel the tour if he had to. Declan wasn’t going to fail Molly if he could help it, not the way he’d failed Bethany, even if risking it was the one thing left on this planet that could scare him. Molly very clearly did not need him, but Declan didn’t give a shit. He defined the man he was by the things he did, good and bad, and he was going to be the man who helped Molly Ward if he could.

Because he fucking loved her.

“You find out what happened?” he asked Adra, getting out of his crappy last-minute rental. The air conditioning didn’t even work.

“No,” Adra said. “You’re sure about—”

“Just take me to her place, Adra,” Declan said. “If she wants me to leave, I’ll leave. But between the two of us I bet there’s something we can do for her. Just put it all on me if you have to.”

Declan had realized on the plane he didn’t even know where Molly lived. His only shot was Adra. He felt like the world’s biggest jackass, that he knew so much and so little about Molly, but he was stuck with it for now. He’d fix that later; right now he just needed to get to where she was.

Adra gave him a long, appraising look, and whatever she saw there, she approved of, because she got out the beamer and drove the two of them on out to Pleasant Valley Park, a dry, dusty looking place with little kids playing in the dirt and laundry on the line. Looked like a million other places, with a million other lives. Only this one had Molly.

“You know much about this situation?” he asked Adra.

“A little, not much,” she said. “I know she wants to get out of it.”

“She might not even be here,” Declan said. “Her sister doesn’t live here. It was just the only thing I could think of.”

“She picking up her phone?”

Declan frowned. “Not yet.”

And then they pulled into the driveway, only to be greeted before they even knocked on the door by a young, pretty woman who looked like Molly, only a little bit rounder in the face—and rounder in the belly. Declan got a good look at that bump and everything suddenly made sense. He said, “You’re Lydia.”

Lydia was tense, defensive. Arms crossed. “Who the hell are you?”

“She’s not a Savage Heart fan,” Adra smiled.

“They’re ok,” Lydia said. “But this is private property, so—”

“Don’t be scared,” Declan told her. “We’re friends of Molly’s, not your father’s. We’re here to help.”

Molly’s name was the magic word. Lydia’s defenses collapsed like a child’s sandcastle until she looked like she was about to cry, and then another woman came out of the trailer, all ready to kick some ass, only to join Adra in helping Lydia get a hold of herself. Declan spent the next thirty minutes watching the women work, feeling himself fit into this life of Molly’s he’d never known. He was still pissed at her for leaving, for not trusting him to stick around or help out or whatever it was that went through her mind, but now he was grateful for the chance to get to know her in her real life. Here. Like this.

He would help take care of her sister. He would do anything at all to make Molly Ward’s life better. That was Declan turned his phone back on and called Ford Colson with very specific, very detailed instructions.

And then he went out to meet Molly.

chapter
27

Molly couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. She hadn’t slept much; it was totally possible she was hallucinating.

Declan Donovan, in her house.

And Adra?

“This guy can’t be outside too long if you guys want to keep a low profile,” Adra said, her head popping out from behind Declan. Then she smiled and waved. “Hi, Molly.”

Declan shifted, and put out his hand. “C’mere,” he said softly.

Molly didn’t need to be told twice.

As soon as she entered his orbit, Declan picked her up by the waist, spinning her into her own home and wrapping her up in those big arms. It was probably the most chaste contact they’d ever had, and yet it set Molly’s body tingling and her heart thumping. He was
here
. He was holding her. Like he wasn’t going to let her go.

“I needed to know you were ok,” he said into her ear.

She shivered.

Then she heard Lydia come in behind her and reluctantly disentangled herself from Declan, surveying her home with all these people in it for the first time. It seemed so much smaller—but warmer. Declan alone dwarfed the place, made it seem miniature. From behind Adra, Shauna waved, looking pretty bewildered. The whole thing was surreal, but she’d never felt as at home in her own home as she did right then, with all of these people crowded into her small living room.

Then Lydia came and took her hand. Lydia, who Molly never got to see. Totally disorienting.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Molly said carefully. “I’m so happy to see you guys, but I didn’t sleep much, and I’m not fully coherent, so …what are you all doing here?”

Declan’s low rumble filled the trailer. “I’m here to help,” he said. “Adra, too. Not complicated.”

“Um, he’s saying he’ll pay for everything, Molly,” Lydia said quietly. “Like, everything. No matter what. An apartment, too.”

Molly looked sharply at Declan. She should be happy about this, obviously. She should be thrilled. She hadn’t been entirely sure how she would support Lydia if need be, only certain that she’d find a way. So why wasn’t she doing a happy dance?

“I’ll set you up with everything you might need,” Declan said. “Whatever happens, you don’t have to worry about money. And Lydia, you can call me whenever if anyone gives you any trouble. Day or night. I’m never more than a few hours away, and I’ve got people in L.A.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, squeezing Molly’s hand.

It seemed like only Molly was feeling the least bit ambivalent. Why was that? She worked hard to figure out what she was feeling, because it wasn’t all good. It wasn’t even mostly good.

She felt weak all over again. Molly realized that she’d actually been looking forward, in some not entirely helpful way, to swooping in and being the one to rescue Lydia, the way she never got to do for herself. The way no one else did for her. And she hated that she felt that, because she knew that this should be about Lydia only, and not Molly seeking closure or whatever for her own issues, but there it was.

Molly felt terrible. Terrible and selfish and…scared. Why was she scared?

“We should talk about where you’ll stay tonight, if you don’t feel like it’s safe here, given your father’s feelings,” Adra said. “Volare seems like the obvious choice until we get you your own place.”

“You said he didn’t care enough to come after you,” Molly said, somewhat alarmed.

“Well, he didn’t, but who knows if he gets drunk,” Lydia said. “And you know it’s not totally safe here for you, either, with all the stuff Robbie and his boys put you through.”

Declan came alive. “What?” he demanded. “What is she talking about?”

“I’m used to it,” Molly said, irritated. “I’m getting out on my own, I have a plan.”

“You’re coming to Volare, too,” he said, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said bitterly to Declan. “Any of this. I can take care of it.”

“Molly…” Lydia said, reading her sister like a book. “Don’t.”

“But I
can
.”

Molly heard herself being irrational and angry and hated it, but for some reason she just couldn’t stop. She couldn’t look at Declan without wanting him, without wanting to run to him to feel safe and cared for, and that just made it so much worse because it was
terrifying
. She’d worked so hard to be able to become the person who could help her sister, who could take care of anything, who could
handle shit
, and now it felt like Declan was taking that from her, piece by piece. First by making her love him, and then by actually showing up and doing Molly’s job for her.

And she couldn’t even be angry at him for it, because it made her love him more, when she knew he couldn’t love her the way she wanted.

And
that
pissed her off.

Declan didn’t get a running commentary, but he saw enough to know she was pissed. He said, “I know you can, Molly.”

“Mol, it’s my decision,” Lydia was saying. “I’d be insane not to take whatever help I can get right now.”