Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

“She’s sleeping.”

“Is Noah over at Grace’s?”

Bo nods. “And Mal’s in his study. He never sleeps, does he?”

“Nah, insomnia’s a bitch.” Mal’s past has him by the balls and won’t let go. I’m hopeful that he’ll shake loose, someday.

Bo takes a deep draw from his coffee mug. “So what’s the problem with the band?”

“My new front man’s sister showed up at the bar the other night. She had a cut on her lip and a nasty bruise on her arm.”

Bo sets his mug down carefully. Finn swings away from the stove with a deep frown on his face. Neither of them like the idea of some girl getting hurt.

“Her brother is knocking her around?”

“No, she said it was an accident. That she thought she heard some intruder by her house, got startled and fell against her car.”

“You believe that?” Bo looks skeptical.

I wave for Finn to check on the eggs. He flicks me off but returns his attention to the stove. “Her brother bought it, but it sounds like she might have a stalker. Guy by the name of Marrow.” I pull a sheaf of paper from my back pocket. “Mal looked it up and there’s a Christopher Paul Marrow who was arrested for harassment, assault and battery a few years ago. He got sentenced to eighteen months and got out after serving three at a minimum-security prison.”

Bo plucks out of my hand the criminal rap sheet that Mal printed off. He scans it quickly. There’s not much information there, but what few details exist make me want to crush Marrow’s head between my hands until his eyeballs pop out.

“Shit,” Bo mutters.

A plateful of eggs lands on the table. Finn takes the paper from Bo, reads it, and says, “We should go check him out.”

“We?” I echo, pretending the fluffy eggs are the only thing I’m interested in.

Finn gives me a look of disbelief. “You never get up before noon, yet here you are, slamming cupboards and making coffee before the crack of dawn.”

I shrug. “Fine. So maybe I was going to find Marrow and see what was what.”

“We’ll all go,” Bo says.

“You are only allowed to watch.” I point my fork in his direction. Bo loves to fight, but if anyone gets to hit Marrow, it’s going to be me.

Landry’s a tiny thing. The top of her head barely reached my chin. The thought of some fucked-up bastard bruising her makes my blood boil. I barely held it together the other night, seeing her delicate mouth marred by the cut.

Shit, she’s beautiful. I stayed up all last night and the night before because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her green eyes staring at me with a healthy dose of lust in them. She wanted me and if it weren’t for her brother, I could’ve given her exactly what she wanted—to lay her back on the sofa and kiss her until we were both breathless. I wouldn’t have taken it any further than that, though.

She’s like one of Finn’s skittish colts that need a slow, gentle hand. Well, I can be slow and gentle. Even if it means my balls might turn permanently blue.

But first, I need to get rid of Marrow so that I can go on this damn tour. When I spoke to Davis yesterday, he admitted that he’s still staying with Landry at their folks’ place, and that he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving town right now. Fortunately, we have until the end of the week to give Hollister an answer, and the tour won’t kick off until the week after that, so there’s still time to change Davis’s mind. Or, rather, there’s still time to put Davis’s mind at ease, along with making sure Landry is safe.

Then I need to figure out how I’m going to stay in contact with her. Starting something with a girl before I kick off on a five-month tour through a dozen states is stupid, but there’s a connection there and I’d be a fool not to follow through. My friends are settling down and finding real happiness while I stumble in and out of beds, feeling more unfulfilled than ever.

Allowing Landry to slip through my fingers because of some fluke of timing would be stupid. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life—selfish jerk, man child, musically obsessed—but not stupid.

I gobble down my breakfast. After Bo finishes, he runs upstairs to say goodbye to AnnMarie. Finn and I wait for him outside.

“You sure you want to buy this place?” Finn asks.

I fiddle with the cigarette I’ve tucked behind my ear. “Yup. Not ready to let go of it yet.”

I don’t have someone to make a new home with like Finn, Bo, and Noah have. This is my home, and I’m not ready to give it up.

“It’s hard for me to let go, too,” he admits with a wry smile. “We put a lot of time and effort into this place.”