Rock Redemption (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3)

“There’s not nearly enough love in this world. I can’t see her turning that away. Not if she knows you’re serious and not messing around with her.”

“I wasn’t honest with her before. I put too much on her shoulders.”

“But you’re not going to do that crap anymore.”

“Because I’ve seen the light?”

“Damn straight. And because you know full well how much it sucks to sleep alone.” He laughed and held out a hand to me. “I’m heading out. You’ve got my vocals down, so you and She-Devil and Rory and your band can do what you need to do. I’m taking off for a couple days. When I get back, I expect you gone. Or on the way to getting gone soon.”

“Really want me out, hmm?” But I shook his hand just the same.

He’d given me so much more than I’d expected when I asked for a place to stay. Someone to collaborate with. To commiserate with. Most importantly, a friend.

I’d forever be indebted to him.

He stepped back. “No. I want you to fucking go after your girl already. If she’s that amazing, she won’t be lonely for long.”

I blew out a breath. “You’re right.” The mere idea of it burned like acid in my throat.

“You’re welcome back whenever you’d like. Bring Zoe.” He pointed at me. “Just remember that any surfaces you desecrate in my home, I will return the favor someday when you have your own place.”

I grinned, the hope of his statement flaring to life in my gut. “Deal.”

Eighteen

Ending up where I started wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I left Venice. Even without J Town, I could have made it as a freelancer. I never really bothered to look at my bank account until I had to look into shipping my stuff.

I’d been so focused on not fucking up my collection, that I did an obscene amount of busy work when things didn’t work out. Evidently, obscene was an understatement.

But instead of finding a place and doing more of the same, I just really wanted New York. I hadn’t longed for it since I left. Or maybe I just hadn’t allowed myself to.

I strapped all my shit into a small U-Haul and drove home.

I had money, but I wasn’t a rockstar.

Funny that was the first word in my brain. But he was never far from my thoughts. Oh, I tried to push him out, but everything about Ian was stubborn, even a breakup.

I found myself taking pictures on my drive. I even started bonding with Lucy—my other Polaroid camera. I hadn’t been able to find Matilda when I was packing, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I could still use her anyway. She was so tied to Ian.

Instead, I posted to my Instagram. Maybe hoping he’d look if he thought of me too. All the little places I’d never given myself time to travel to.

Places that made me think of him and want to share them with him.

In the end, the destination had lured harder than exploration. I filled three journals with ideas for projects, fed my painting need with watercolors in a Hobonichi to document my time and get things out of my brain.

I didn’t even tell my parents I was coming.

The minute I saw signs for Rochester, New York, it was like all my days of travel had dropped on me at once. June was in full effect with the longer days and heat index fluctuating from cool nights to warm within a fingersnap.

I had maybe an hour of sunlight left when the first rustic billboard for Happy Acres stole my breath. The sky was honey gold and pink and the flat, boring highway gave way to endless rows of trees.

My family’s orchard was vast and had expanded in my lifetime. Some orchards didn’t have the same successes, and we had definitely had some hard years, but this place was the one constant in my life.

One place where I knew how to be.

I was too tired to put on a smile for strangers.

I needed home.