Prologue
One year ago
Set Fire to the Rain
Exhaustion settles deep in my bones. Another double shift is over, and I am dead on my feet.
I walk into my tiny two —bedroom apartment with our dinner. "I got Chinese," I yell. "I'm taking a bath first. My back is killing me."
I walk into the small bathroom to start the water, adjusting the temperature to as hot as I can stand. I inhale the scent of lavender as I strip out of my uniform, unable to stop the groan when I submerge myself into the hot water.
My back isn't all that's killing me. My freaking feet hurt just lying here. Arms feel like limp noodles, and my head is pounding from the incessant noise that has reverberated in my head all night long. I'm only twenty-six, but I feel so much older.
I lay there for a while, allowing the day to fall away. Relaxing until all my fingers and toes are pruney and the water turns cold.
Finally, I drag myself from the bath, putting on my warmest fleece pajama pants and an old hoodie I stole once. I love this hoodie. It holds so many memories. Memories I'll never forget. Or regret.
I walk into the kitchen, finding the take-out boxes left open. "You could've closed the boxes back up," I yell.
"Sorry. I forgot," Tyler says.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," I laugh, getting a grin in return.
I sit on the sofa with my plate of food. I turn on the television, not even caring what's on. The first thing on the screen is a music award show, and the band on the stage makes my heart drop.
People I left behind long ago are accepting awards. I try not to think of them. Thinking of them leads to guilt and pain andan extensive line ofwhat ifsthat will never be answered. It never works. Too many reminders surround me every day of the life I left behind. I never wanted to go, but I didn't have much choice.
I watch as they accept their awards. Awards they deserve. They've always deserved them. Talent like theirs doesn't come along every day. Hell, talent like that only comes along once in a generation.
I think back on memories with those boys – men. Remember the laughs we had. They were the closest thing I had to a family in the city. They accepted me and all my flaws. They didn't judge my purple hair or the piercings. They never thought anything about the tattoos. I laugh at the thought. How could they when they all had their own?
I loved them, and they loved me. Until it all went to hell.
"Who are they?" Tyler asks, sitting beside me.
"Sons of Sin," I answer, remembering the first time I ever heard that name or saw them play. I was in awe.
"They seem really popular. How come I've never heard of them?"
"Because you don't listen to music," I tease, then instantly regret it.
"That's because you won't let me, Mom. Why do they look like the guys in your photo album?"
I swallow hard. "Because they are," I tell my son.
His head snaps back to the screen, then back to me. His eyes swim with questions. Questions I've ignored and avoided for too long. Questions I knew would bite me in the ass one day.
"But that means –" he trails off.
"Yeah, baby. That's your daddy."
"But you said my dad was far away,” he accuses with narrowed eyes.
I did tell him that. It’s not entirely a lie. Just not entirely the truth. “He is far away, Ty.”
“That’snot far away, mom,” my seven-year-old boy tells me as he points at the TV. “You made it sound like he was on Mars or something.”
My kid is smart. Too smart. And he has a smart mouth to go with it. But sometimes, he’s just too logical. I have no idea where that comes from. “California may as well be Mars, Ty, because it’s two-thousand miles from here.”
