“So your mom is an asshole?”
Lacey’s question has me loosening up and forgetting my meltdown. “You could say that. I have brothers and sisters, but they are nothing more than strangers. You, Ellie, Cayden…you’re far more significant than they are.”
She swallows, toying with the short hem of her black dress. I wonder what I said, as that was supposed to be a compliment. We ride the rest of the way in silence, both of us appearing to appreciate the quiet.
When Raul pulls up in front of a bar and Lacey unbuckles her belt, I know that we’re here. The fluorescent sign reads Mustangs.
The moment I step out onto the sidewalk, the first thing that hits me is the noise. It’s a Friday night, and everyone is in the mood to party. The line to get into Mustangs is long, but Lacey links her arm through mine and leads me toward two beefy security guards in black. When they see her, the taller one of the two smiles. “Hey, Ace. How have you been?”
“Good. Working hard, but tonight, we plan on letting our hair down. This is my friend, Peyton.”
He, whose name badge says Justin, nods. “Hi, Peyton. Any friend of Ace’s is a friend of mine. Is your brother here?” Justin looks over our shoulders, wading through the crowd in hopes of seeing Cayden.
She bursts into a sarcastic cackle. “You do remember who my brother is, right? Anything fun gives him a rash.”
Justin laughs loudly, smirking at her sass. “All right then. Tell him I said hi.” He moves to the side, permitting us entry. I feel guilty for jumping the line, but Lacey drags me inside.
“Thank you,” I call out over my shoulder. “It was nice meeting you.”
I’m not sure if he heard me because the moment we step foot into the luminous pink foyer, the noise notches up tenfold. Lacey hauls me down the long hallway, bopping to the live band playing on the stage.
When we enter the main room, I glance from left to right, taking it all in. The place is packed full of patrons drinking, laughing, and having a good time. There is a mix of people, but most are in ripped jeans, faded band T-shirts, and covered in tattoos. Stella wouldn’t be caught dead in here, so that fact spurs me on to investigate further.
The band is deafening in the small place, but I understand what’s on Lacey’s mind as she leads me toward the bar. Everyone seems friendly enough as they move aside for us to pass. We wait in line, Lacey bouncing on the spot, her eyes rooted to the stage. I see why a second later. Sitting behind the blue drum kit and assaulting the cymbals is none other than Gunn.
The spotlight beaming down behind him ignites his kit and highlights his golden skin. There is no denying his good looks, but the memories of seeing Cayden on that worksite, exerting his control, have me wondering if anyone could ever compare.
I put thoughts of Cayden on the back burner, however, and focus on the patrons around me, hoping one face will stand out from the crowd. None do. I don’t allow that to deter me because I’m not even sure if the pre-amnesia me would hang out at a place such as this. My clothes and upbringing certainly would point to that being highly unlikely.
“What’s your poison?” Lacey shouts into my ear to be heard over the rock music.
“Whiskey sour,” I reply without thought, shocking myself. That came so naturally, and I wonder why. “I may not remember much, but I sure as shit seem to remember what booze I like.”
Lacey laughs, nudging me with her shoulder. “Whatever would Stella say?”
“Stella is probably why I drink,” I counter, which has both of us cackling.
Lacey orders our drinks while I continue to survey our surroundings. The painted black walls have framed tour posters hanging around the room. There is nothing notable about this bar, but it appears to be well loved by many. When I take a sip of my delicious drink, I understand why.
Lacey pays the bartender, and we then make our way to the red leather booths in a small corner of the room. We take a seat.
“Cool place, right?”
I agree, nodding my head in time with the music. “It sure is, and the scenery isn’t too bad either.” When I wiggle my eyebrows, Lacey turns beet red.
“You caught me; although, Mustangs is the best bar in town,” she says, defending her honor. “Cayden and I used to come here all the time. He snuck me in when I was underage.” She drinks her beer with a smile.
That would explain Justin’s comment earlier. It appears Cayden has a fun side, after all. I don’t want to pry, but I’m almost certain Lacey is aware that her brother gets under my skin in every way possible. “I can’t believe he used to”—I pause for dramatic effect—“have fun.” I slap both my cheeks and open my mouth wide, staging shock and horror.
Lacey almost chokes on her beer. “I know. He’s a twenty-eight-year-old single dad who needs to let loose. But he won’t. That’s Cayden. Always looking out for everyone else.”
Shuffling in my seat, I attempt to be as casual as I can. “He told me Hazel used to hang around your house when you were kids. That your home was kind of a haven for the outcasts of the neighborhood.”
She nods but doesn’t let anything slip. That doesn’t deter me, however.
“He doesn’t like her much, does he?”
“You could say that. Hazel didn’t have the best upbringing, and Cayden, being Cayden, ensured she was looked after. I guess she took that form of kindness for something else. She lusted after him for years, but he was never interested.”
“Why not?” I’ve seen her, and she is clearly gorgeous.