Page 7 of A Way Out (Rock Star #2)

Chapter Six

M aria woke in an unfamiliar bed for the second morning in a row. The night before had been in a hotel in Northern California, and she and Riley had slept in the same bed.

Except Riley wasn’t here.

Maria sat up so quickly her head swam for a moment. Meanwhile, her heart was galloping like a damn horse. Where was her child?

She scrambled out of bed, flung open the door, and rushed down the stairs, nearly skidding to a halt when she spotted Riley, snuggled into Oz’s side on the couch, a cartoon on the giant television, a bowl of what looked like scrambled eggs in her lap.

Oz glanced up, his eyes widening before he smiled.

Why the hell were her knees weak? Oh, right, because this little scenario had never ever happened in her life.

She grasped the railing and made her way downstairs, conscious of the fact that she wore a thin camisole and a pair of animal print pajama pants and her nipples were currently expressing their desire to be touched by the man who was watching her descent and very impressively keeping his gaze above her neckline.

“Morning,” he said when she stepped into the room.

“Morning,” Maria said, wrapping one arm around her chest while the other used the wall to help keep her steady.

“Mama, eggs,” Riley announced, lifting her bowl with both hands.

Oz chuckled. “I’m breaking my own rule about eating in the living room, but we both kind of got sucked into the show.”

Maria glanced at the television. “ Thomas the Tank Engine . A classic, for sure.”

“All right, missy,” Oz said, taking the bowl out of Riley’s hand and standing. “I need to get to work.”

Oh, that’s right, he worked three jobs. Maria couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that someone was paid so poorly that they had to work what? Fourteen hours a day just to make ends meet.

To Maria he said, “I’m glad you’re up. I didn’t want to have to wake you up. Didn’t want to invade your personal space.”

Invade all you want . She cleared her throat. “No worries. Um, do I need to do anything in particular? With the kids, I mean?” She’d not expected to be left alone with four children. There were days when she felt she was barely succeeding at raising a single three-year-old.

“Nope. My mom will be here in about thirty minutes to get them up and ready for school. Then, knowing her, she’ll drop them off and head back to her house, even though I told her to stay here and enjoy the pool.”

“Your mom?” What? He was springing this on her now, thirty minutes before the woman was due to arrive?

No, wait, he’d mentioned this yesterday, although it hadn’t clicked until right this minute what he’d meant.

She touched her hair. She’d jumped out of bed and rushed down here so fast, she hadn’t even paused to look in a mirror.

“Sorry,” he said, cupping the back of his neck. “I didn’t think to tell you the specifics yesterday. I’m, ah, not used to having anyone else around besides her and the kids, and we all know the routine, you know?”

Maria let loose a weak laugh. “Yes, actually, I understand exactly what you mean. I suppose we both need to get out more, don’t we?”

Good Lord, it sounded like she was propositioning him.

“Well, I guess that’s what this trip to Missouri is for, right? I promise to do my best not to spring anything on you while we’re there.”

This time, her laugh was more cheery. “I promise to do the same.”

He backed away, lifting the bowl he’d taken from Riley. “I’m gonna put this in the sink and I’m out of here. I’m working my landscaping job today, so I won’t be back until dark. Oh, wait.”

He stopped and tugged his phone out of his pocket. “Why don’t you give me your number? I’ll send you a text so we can reach each other if need be.”

For a moment there, she’d thought he was asking for an entirely not-utilitarian reason.

She rattled off her digits. A few moments later, the front door clicked closed behind him.

Maria swept Riley into her arms and rushed for the stairs.

“We need to brush our teeth and comb our hair, and I need to put on real clothes, and we need to do all this in the next twenty-five minutes,” she told her child, who simply blinked up at her, like maybe she was overreacting to the fact that Oz’s mother was about to arrive.

Maria didn’t care. She went right ahead and overreacted.

An hour and a half later, Oz’s mother, who the kids called Abuelita and whose name was Catalina—“but call me Cat”—shooed them out the door ahead of her, speaking mostly in Spanish but sprinkling in enough English that Maria understood that she did not want them to be late for school.

Maria collapsed onto the couch next to Riley, who was busy scribbling on her electronic sketchbook.

Wow. She was exhausted already and it was only seven thirty in the morning.

There had been a lot of energy bouncing around for a few minutes there, although, to be fair, Cat had done an amazing job of keeping everyone on task, making sure they ate, brushed their teeth, got dressed, had their backpacks, hadn’t forgotten any homework—and on and on and on.

“I don’t think I could handle having three kids,” she murmured. Which was just fine, since she had zero prospects of even having one more at this point.

Pushing off the couch, she wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee. Probably part of why she felt so exhausted; she hadn’t had her morning dose of caffeine yet.

She came to a stuttering halt in the doorway, staring at the pristinely clean and sparkling room. Cat had scrambled up a hefty amount of eggs and had added bacon and orange slices, and while Maria wasn’t an expert, she’d cooked enough to know that sort of meal created a mess.

But there was no mess. No grease. No sticky juice stains on the counter. No dirty plates in sight.

Clearly, Cat was a magician. Or a goddess.

After pouring herself a mug of coffee—yes, Cat had made that too—Maria wandered around the house, eventually ending up on the lower level, where Holly and Sam had set up a small practice studio.

On the far end of the room was a platform upon which sat a drum kit. A bunch of guitars rested on stands, lining one wall. A cozy leather sectional couch was parked in front of a wet bar.

Framed posters of Panic Station’s various album covers hung on the walls, and a glass-front case displayed several awards.

There were also photos of the band with what she assumed were other famous bands in the display case.

Including one with Oz’s band, or so she assumed, since Oz was in the picture.

She opened the glass door and pulled out the picture so she could study it more closely.

Oz had his arms flung around the shoulders of an attractive black guy with blond dreads and a good-looking white guy with shaggy brown hair.

On that guy’s other side was an olive-skinned man with stick-straight, black hair.

Next to him was a woman who so closely resembled Sam that they had to be related.

Then Sam, Holly, and the rest of their band, whom Maria recalled meeting at her grandmother’s funeral.

In less than a week, she’d be hanging out with these people, who all appeared to be best buds. She already felt like an outsider.

Her younger sister had managed to find her family, a real family, among these rockers. She’d also found love—true, honest-to-God, real love, the kind that would last forever.

Maria had never been more jealous of Holly in her life. And she’d been plenty jealous over the years, because Holly had figured out how to tune out their mother’s constant criticism, had learned how to ignore the woman, not let her get under her skin.

Maria hadn’t even told her mother that she’d asked for a divorce. She’d been afraid of the backlash. And then, when Vic told her (of course he did), the woman had called and called and called, and for a week straight, Maria had managed to ignore her, which was both stressful and refreshing.

Until she showed up on Maria’s doorstep, and then Elaine Hearsy had perched on the edge of her couch and lectured her for well over an hour about her foolishness.

Truthfully, not reconciling with Vic after that had possibly been the bravest thing Maria had ever done.

Just as Oz had warned, Cat did not return after taking the children to school. Maria took Riley for a walk around the neighborhood, splashed in the pool, and counted down the hours until Oz returned, which was not a decision she was particularly interested in analyzing about herself.

Cat and the kids returned shortly after three, and suddenly the house was full of noise and energy again, and was it crazy that Maria already preferred this to the solitude and quiet?

Heck, she’d had nothing but solitude and quiet for her entire marriage, so no, it wasn’t crazy.

Cat bustled around the kitchen, preparing snacks for the children while they sat at the table and did their homework. Riley insisted on sitting next to Izzie and drawing on her sketchpad. Maria offered to help Cat.

“We’re running low on salsa,” Cat said. “Why don’t you collect the ingredients and start chopping tomatoes?” And then she rattled off a list of food items as Maria rushed to gather them together.

Maria obligingly chopped tomatoes, and Cat fed the children bananas and crackers with peanut butter, along with a bowl of popcorn. Once that task was done, she joined Maria, mincing garlic on a second cutting board.

“Oz says you are Holly’s sister,” Cat commented as she rhythmically bounced the knife against the wooden surface.

Maria wanted to ask when she and Oz had had time to chat about her. Instead, she said, “I am.”

Cat nodded. “You are very different.”

So she’d met Holly. This wasn’t surprising. It was clear Oz was tight with her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.

“Holly moved away after high school and never returned. Well, not until last year, when our grandmother passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. But not for your gain.”

She glanced up sharply. “What does that mean?”

Cat dumped a pile of minced garlic into a bowl that already contained tomatoes, peppers, jalapenos, and onions. She grabbed a bunch of cilantro and began chopping again. “Holly was estranged from her family. Now she is not. At least, not from her sister. Which means some good came of her visit.”

That visit had also helped Holly realize she was in love with Sam. Before that point, they’d been pretending to be a happy couple for the sake of the band. Maria was one of a very few individuals who knew that, so she did not mention it to Cat.

“You’re right,” she said instead.

Cat added salt and pepper and lime juice and declared the salsa done. She slid it, along with a bowl of tortilla chips, onto the table where the kids were all sitting, still working on homework, and then set about cleaning up the kitchen.

“Perhaps,” Cat said after a few minutes, “some good will come of your visit here.”

Wouldn’t that be nice?