Rock Redemption (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3)

All I saw were trees and more trees and a nosy brown bird staring into the kitchen from its perch on a pole that extended from a replica cabin birdhouse.

“Uh, I don’t know how to fish.”

“Shocker.” Flynn turned away. “You’ll learn. Now go on and get to work.”

I surprised myself by smiling. “Thanks, Flynn.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t send me flowers. I’m fucking allergic.”

Fifteen

Fishing did not happen right away.

I couldn’t say I was displeased.

There wasn’t much time for it, because I holed up in Flynn’s studio. For such a homey-seeming cabin, the studio itself appeared to be state of the art. Not that I could tell such things myself, being such a newbie, but I had a feeling.

My time in the studio at Ripper had been limited before everything had occurred with Margo, and I certainly didn’t feel up to spending time trying to adjust the different sounds and tonal qualities and other aspects I could add. Well, beyond giving myself a backing band—synthesized as it was—and replicating my own voice.

I picked up how to do that rather quickly, with more than a little help from Flynn. He was quite at ease behind the board.

I was learning.

It had been nearly a week since I’d arrived and I already had a routine. Wake up, shower, raid Flynn’s refrigerator—like magic, food just kept appearing without him seeming to do any shopping—engage in some trivial argument with Flynn that usually involved laughter, then move to the studio. Where I fought with the words stuck in my brain and futilely tried to get them down on paper in my composition notebook.

My progress was slow. Halting. Usually, the logjam in my head only started loosening once I tormented myself with flicking through the photos on Zoe’s Instagram. She seemed to be on some sort of trip. I wished like hell she’d post just one selfie, so I could see her with my own two eyes and be sure she was okay.

It didn’t happen.

Still, the small bit of connection helped. Oh, it hurt too. I knew it wasn’t meant for me. Zoe had used Instagram far before I’d come into her life. But I’d settle for that narrow window into her life if it meant she was all right.

I might hope she still missed me, but more than anything, I wished for her to have peace. Even if I knew without her, I never truly would.

This bit of masochism wouldn’t help, but I would do things differently this time. I wouldn’t tag her. If she saw it, it would be because either she’d looked herself or someone else had tagged her. But not me.

I adjusted the headphones I’d stretched to fit Matilda’s boxy shape.

Yes, I’d stolen her back. I had to. This part of Zoe might be all I would ever have.

I was selfish. A besotted fool, as Flynn had commented more than once. But Matilda represented the best moments of my life. Not because of the stage, though that too had played a part. Most of all, that happiness was due to Zoe. No career could compare to what it was to finally have love.

Even if I’d lost it so spectacularly.

I took the picture with my mobile and uploaded it with the simple caption.

Back to work in the studio.

Within minutes, my direct messages were numbering in the hundreds and I had what seemed like endless likes, reposts, and excited comments.

We missed you!

Where did you go?

That leaked clip of you and Simon was so amazing. Please, give us more!

Hey, can we get a selfie of you with those headphones on?

And the one that killed me.