Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC 17)

Does it make me a horrible person to enjoy the idea of my kidnapper being tortured by Rooster and his brothers? If so, I guess I’m goin’ to hell.

“I tried to get away. I tried. I ran. But he—” My voice breaks. I can’t stand Jigsaw thinking I’m weak. Too weak to be Rooster’s girlfriend.

“Shh. Take it easy.” Still holding my hand, he drops into the chair next to my bed. “Go back to sleep if you want. I’ll be right here watching over you until Rooster gets back, okay?”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Knowing Jigsaw’s by my side, I slide back into sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Shelby

At some point, my mother returns. Her familiar crisp, sparkling scent wraps around me, comforting and anxiety-provoking in equal doses.

“Here. Take my chair,” Jigsaw says.

“Thanks, Jensen.”

Jensen. Did I know that was Jiggy’s given name?

I can’t seem to dig the information out of my head.

“I talked to her a little before. But I bet having her mom right here will help her get better even sooner.” Jiggy sounds sincere instead of the sarcasm I’ve grown to know and love about him.

Their hushed voices lull me back to sleep.

The door clicks closed.

My mother brushes her fingers through my hair. “Oh, Shelby. I never saw somethin’ like this coming, baby.”

You and me both.

After a few minutes, her warm, soft fingers curl around mine. “This is one more good reason to be single right now. Can’t let those nutters who are obsessed with you get jealous, you know?”

Has she lost her mind?

Slowly, I peel my eyes open. “Are you kiddin’ me right now?”

Her eyes widen. Maybe she thought I was asleep and wouldn’t hear that tidbit of advice. “Shh. Don’t get all flustered. I want what’s best for you. This is career advice. Not personal.”

Bullshit. I snatch my hand back and struggle to pull myself upright.

“Greg told me about the nominations. I’m over-the-moon excited for you.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Dawson’s up for Male Vocalist of the Year. Wouldn’t it be perfect if you two attended together?”

Yeah, perfectly awful. “If you’re so hot for Dawson, maybe you should date him.”

“Hell, Shelby.” She dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. “I’m too old for a man like that.”

Brave. Be brave. I’m a big girl. I can buck up and explain myself. I’ve done it before.

Not that she ever listens.

Rooster rescued me for goodness’ sake. Shouldn’t that be enough to stop this foolishness? “Listen to me good, Momma. I’m in love with Rooster. Big time. I’m not pretending to be single or pretending to date someone else for you, my career, or any other reason.”

“Oh, Shelby,” she moans, like I’ve just confessed I flunked out of college. “Love’s a damn disease. It comes on strong and dies slow. Painfully. Don’t do this to yourself. Especially after such a horrible event. It’s the trauma bonding y’all together.”

Ignoring that bit of psychobabble, I push as much force as I can behind what I want to say. “I was in love with him before this happened.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not looking for your advice or opinion when it comes to my relationship, Momma.”

“I’ll always want what’s best for you. Whether you want to hear it or not.”

Nope. None of my words are penetrating her thick wall of crazy. “I think you should go.”

She pulls her hand away and sits back in the chair. “That’s how you thank me for everything I’ve done? Kicking me out? A handsome face and big dick make you turn your back on your mother?”

“You’re being vile.” I wince as I struggle to sit up. Stupid hospital bed. “What’s the matter with you? This isn’t me turning my back.”

“Shelby, this isn’t like you.”

That’s probably true. I’ve never stood up to her when she interfered in my relationships before. I didn’t feel a fraction of what I feel for Rooster for any of my exes, so they weren’t worth arguing about. “I’m explaining that Logan’s part of my life and you’re not listening. I want you to be happy for me, not lecture me.”

“Thank the Lord I talked you into getting that IUD,” she mutters. “Since you’re being so unreasonable.”

Utterly confused, I frown at the change in conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“So he can’t tamper with your pills or something. Men do that sort of thing, you know—knock you up so then you’re tied to them forever. Especially if you’re more successful.”

“You have too much to drink on the plane?” Maybe it’s because I’m out in the world and away from my mother now, but I never realized how weird her obsession with this topic was. I’m painfully aware she gave up her singing career when she got pregnant with me. While I understand how much it must have hurt her when my father left, living in the past isn’t healthy for either of us.