Page 12 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Mick

The last thing I expected from this photo shoot was to get an offer to essentially buy into a clothing line.

As far as I’m concerned, it’s a slam dunk.

I don’t need cash right now, and this is an investment that costs me nothing.

If I end up not making money, I didn’t spend any either, so I don’t lose anything, and Hettie is sweetening the pot by saying I can market the band in any advertising we do.

In fact, she’s talking about using our music for a social media campaign she wants to run.

There are a ton of legalities and logistics that have to go through Sasha and Hart Records, but Hettie understands that and she’s going to reach out to them next week.

If this works out, it could be a win-win for all of us.

Giving our music that kind of mainstream exposure is huge, and she even suggested a partnership with the band.

I won’t pretend to understand that kind of thing from a business perspective, but if Sasha signs off on it, I’m in.

I don’t know if the band will want to be part of this but for now, I’m excited about a new opportunity, something that could potentially make me a lot of money in the future.

Not to mention, I’d be working with Taryn.

That’s all the incentive I need right there.

I want to talk to her about the deal, but she seems quiet and distracted. My gut tells me Callum has said or done something to upset her, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk about him. And I’m trying to respect her boundaries.

We leave at the same time, a car service waiting to take us back to our hotel. Taryn looks tired, and an idea occurs to me.

“Hey… would you want to hang out tonight? We could order room service and just veg. Like put on sweats, or even your PJs, and watch a movie or talk or whatever. No strings attached.”

Her eyes meet mine and she seems conflicted.

“Mick, I…”

“It’s obvious you have a lot on your mind,” I say, “but if you don’t want to talk about whatever’s going on, I’d love to talk about Hettie’s offer. This could be huge for both of us.”

“I know.” She nods. “All right. I’ll come down to your room in about an hour. I want to change, take off my makeup, and call Toby. Then I’ll come over. You need to order dinner right away, though.” She smirks. “I’m starving.”

“I’m pretty hungry too. You can look at the room service menu and text me what you want, and I’ll order it while you do what you need to do.”

“Perfect.”

We ride the rest of the way to the hotel in silence and part ways when we get off the elevator.

“Give me about forty-five minutes,” she says.

“I’ll be there.” I watch her go, making sure she gets into her room before going down the hall to mine.

I flop down on the bed and grab the room service menu, scanning it briefly. A steak with a baked potato and asparagus sounds amazing. And caramel cheesecake for dessert. A minute later, my phone dings with Taryn’s order and to my surprise, it’s the same as mine. Except no cheesecake.

Impulsively, I add a second slice to the order when I call it in, as well as a bottle of champagne. If Hettie doesn’t want to pay for it, I’ve got my per diems for yesterday and today saved up, so I can use those.

I get undressed and pull on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved Henley. It’s March, so it’s still cold in New York, and I turn the heat up a little. It seemed like Taryn was freezing all day today, even after Hettie turned the heat up, so I want to make sure she’s comfortable here.

There’s a knock on the door twenty minutes later, and Taryn is standing there in sweats, an oversized sweatshirt, and her hair in a ponytail, but she looks as beautiful as ever.

“You’re early,” I say as I move aside so she can come in.

“Toby’s in treatment,” she murmurs, “so I can’t talk to him until later.”

Treatment?

“Uh, what kind of treatment?”

She sinks down on the edge of the bed and rubs her temples. “Toby has leukemia.”

That news comes out of nowhere, and it takes me a second to wrap my head around it.

“Wait—what?” I hurry over and sit next to her. “Oh, my God. Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers. “He had treatment a few years ago and was in remission, but it came back. Now he’s in an experimental program. It’s a clinical trial.”

“How’s it going?”

She shrugs. “They don’t give us real-time updates. It’s a complicated process of testing, treatment, a break, and then they start again. It’s been seven months. He has five to go.”

“And then what?”

“Then… we find out if it’s working.”

“What if it isn’t?”

She shakes her head, shuddering a little. “I can’t… I can’t even go there.”

“Oh, honey.” I reach out and wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She falls against my chest, and I hear her soft sobs. She tries to say something, but it’s muffled by her tears, and I gently stroke her hair.

“Shh, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, rubbing her eyes. “I try to be strong, for him and for myself, but it’s so hard. I’m scared. He could die… and there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

“But you are doing something—you’re getting him the help he needs.”

“It’s an experimental treatment. We have no idea if it’s going to work. But the traditional treatment failed so I was desperate.”

“Is he tolerating it okay?”

“He has good days and bad days.”

“He must have been diagnosed right after we met,” I say thoughtfully.

She nods. “About a year later.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“In general, it’s good in kids. There’s a ninety-percent cure rate for the type he has. Unfortunately, he went into remission but then it came back. So now we’re trying this. If this doesn’t work—” Her voice breaks and tears leak from her eyes.

“Shh.” I hold her tighter. “If it doesn’t work, I can talk to Angus—his family has ties to the Mayo Clinic.

There may be some new cancer treatment we can get him into.

I’m sure he knows someone somewhere.” The band’s illustrious drummer is very well off, though we didn’t find that out until recently.

Luckily, he’s as generous as he is wealthy.

“Th-thank you.” Her voice is hoarse, and she collapses against my chest like no one’s held her for a long time. And not for the first time, I wish I knew what the hell she’s doing with Callum. He’s the one who should be comforting her, but I know instinctively that he doesn’t.

Because if he did, she wouldn’t be here in my arms.

And we sit like that for a while, until her sobs turn to sniffles and my shirt is soaked.

But I don’t mind. I stroke her hair and back, whispering those soft shushing noises you use with a child, and though I’m not trying to treat her like one, it seems like the most appropriate response to something like this.

When the knock on the door alerts us that dinner has arrived, she hurriedly gets up, wiping her face and disappearing into the bathroom.

I allow the room service waiter to set up the rolling cart where I want it, open the champagne, and then quietly slip out.

I don’t know how the champagne will go over since I hadn’t anticipated a story like the one she told me about Toby.

“You’re so sweet,” she whispers when she comes out.

Her eyes are a little red from crying, but she seems calmer as she sinks into a chair by the little table.

“I thought champagne was appropriate to celebrate our potential new deals with Rock Vibe,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t know about Toby or…” My voice trails because I’m not sure how this looks.

“It’s wonderful,” she says. “You had no way of knowing about Toby, and anyway, it’s not like anything new is happening. I can’t help but worry, and sometimes it just…comes out.”

Because she can’t let it out with Callum.

I don’t know how I know this but I do.

“Is Callum not sympathetic?” I ask, because I can’t help myself.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes. “The short answer is—no. He’s not. But he helps in other ways.”

I frown, staring at her.

She lifts big blue eyes to mine. “If I tell you the truth, you can’t tell anyone. I’m serious. Not Angus, not your management, not your family—no one.”

“Of course not.” I sit across from her and wait.

She seems to be gathering her courage, as if telling me about Callum is somehow painful. Embarrassing. And it makes me hate him that much more.

“This clinical trial that Toby’s in is private.

It’s from some new pharmaceutical company called Vita Soleil.

They didn’t divulge any details, but from what I gathered, they had government funding for the first round of trials but instead of going through traditional phases—which I don’t pretend to understand, with the FDA and the CDC and all that—they wanted to do it their own way.

So the government or whoever it was pulled the funding.

Everyone in this new phase has to pay out of pocket.

” She pulls in a shaky breath. “And my mom’s insurance denied the claim, saying it wasn’t covered.

“Oh, no.”

“We had to come up with over ten thousand a month between the cost for him to stay at the facility and for all the different meds. I don’t mean the experimental ones, but stuff for nausea, for the headaches he gets, stuff like that.

Insurance covers those, but there are copays, and some of them are high, like a hundred bucks a pop. ”

Suddenly it all makes sense.

“And Callum is paying for it.”

She bursts into tears all over again.