Rock Redemption (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3)

Her eyes misted again and two fat tears rolled down her face. She dashed them away. “I think that’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah?”

She sniffed. “Dark hair?”

He crossed his arms and propped his head on his forearms. “Yeah. Pigtails and she was so happy. So freaking beautiful.” He reached out and

thumbed away her tears. “So much like her mom.”

How the heck was she ever supposed to win an argument after that? “Well, I guess the baby has a name then.”

He rolled over onto his back and fist-pumped the air. “Yes! I knew it was a good name.”

She dragged him back to her and closed her mouth over his. “Yeah, it was.” She’d give him this one.

After all, the little girl would have him wrapped for sure.

Just like she would with her mama.

Twenty-One

“Don’t drop it. Justin! I swear if you rip that canvas, I will end you.”

My brother looked down from the truck he was unloading. His big, stupid bear paws gripped the sides of my painting like it was a damn table. “Just put it down. I’ll get them.” I rushed over to the truck and climbed onto the ramp. “Go! Move one of the suitcases or something.”

“You can’t move all the paintings. There’s like forty-five of them.” Justin lifted me and set me aside. “We won’t hurt your precious paintings. Beck, get her down from there.”

I gasped as my brother hooked his arm around my waist and hauled me off the truck. “Go find someone else to bug, Chaos.”

I hated that name. I hated all nicknames.

Liar.

I pushed that thought aside. I definitely didn’t need to think about Ian today.

“Zoe Jayne. Come over here and talk to me.”

My shoulders hunched up as I turned to my Aunt Laverne’s voice. “I just need—”

“Go!” Justin, Beckett, and Hayes all shouted.

I retied my bandana around my hair and huffed. “If you hurt any of—”

“We know. We’ll get strung up by our balls.” Justin jumped down with one of my eight foot boards in his arms. “We got it.”

At least the wooden board they couldn’t hurt.

Much.

Then again, I should have burned that one anyway.

My painting of Ian. The one that I’d been obsessed with for days. The one I hadn’t been able to uncover since I’d left California.

My aunt gently drew me away. “Come over here and have some tea, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arm around my hips and the ever present hint of lemons instantly brought my anxiety levels down below the triple digits.

“Yeah, maybe I need something to drink.”

“Maybe? It might even hit one hundred degrees today. You need to take breaks.” She pushed me onto a hay bale in the corner of the barn. “I can’t believe you want to stay in here.”