Mckenna sits up straighter, placing her tea down on the small table between us.

  “You and your brother…”

  “We don’t have the same biological fathers. But Jameson doesn’t know that,” I admit, recognizing as I say the words that I probably should have told my brother before Mckenna. But after everything she’s shared with me, I want to confide in her too. I want her to be the keeper of my secrets as much as I want to be the shoulders that carry her burdens and pains.

  Mckenna gasps, her eyes widening.

  “My mom met my biological father, Big Jim, when Jameson was four months old. Nana and Pop liked him at first too. He was charming and caring and didn’t mind that mom had a baby. At that point, Mom’s musical and acting aspirations were on hold. She was grieving James, had Jameson to take care of, and was working as a hairstylist at a salon in the city. Nana was minding Jameson during the day, but it wasn’t a long-term solution. Mom met Big Jim while he was in the city for a work conference. He walked into her salon needing a haircut, sat in her chair, and that was it. They hit it off immediately. Nana told me that Big Jim took some of the grief from Mom’s eyes. She started laughing again. It was a whirlwind romance and Mom moved to Boston to be with Big Jim. Nana and Pop followed shortly afterward. And for a while, things were good. I was born. Jim was working. Mom was introducing my brother and me to music. We were happy.”

  “What happened?” Mckenna whispers.

  “Pop was diagnosed with dementia. Mom was doing everything she could to help Nana with Pop. She was still working as a hairstylist, mostly nights and weekends then, so her days were free to support Nana. And right in the midst of it, Big Jim was laid off.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah. Him losing his job was a huge setback. He’d been growing frustrated for years that he wasn’t moving up in the company or landing any promotions. Things were getting more expensive—music lessons, rent, food. Normal things, I guess, that married couples navigate. But when Big Jim lost his job, it’s like he lost a piece of his identity.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Started hitting the bottle. Spending days in the pubs. Betting on the horse races. And he began taking out his bitterness and resentment on Mom. It’s like he was pissed with her for not being there for him. But I don’t know what the fuck he expected. She was the only parent putting food on the table and her dad’s condition was worsening. Right in the middle of that shitstorm, my father decided that he had enough. I came home from school one day, Jameson stayed after to work on a piece with our music teacher, and Big Jim was packing a bag. Just like that, he was going to take off and not say a word.”

  “What did you do?” Mckenna asks, her eyes shiny with tears.

  “I begged him to stay,” I admit, my voice scratchy as I confess one of my greatest shames. “I fucking begged him, Mckenna. Like a goddamn dog.” I shake my head, recalling the tears that rolled down my cheeks as I pleaded with my father. “He was drunk but not wasted. He crouched down in front of me and told me to man the fuck up or I’d end up just like him. I didn’t understand what he meant and that’s when he told me.”

  Mckenna sucks in a sharp breath.

  “He told me that Jameson wasn’t his biological kid. That Jameson was born to a fucking saint named James that my mother still held a torch for. That he was the fuckup second choice and I was the leftovers of all the collateral damage. And that one day, I’d end up just like him. A drunk, second-best, good-for-nothing pushover. He said I had choices to make but if I continued to cry like a pussy, then those choices would be made for me anyway and it would be too late,” I continue. His words are so sharp in my mind, as if he said them yesterday and not over a decade ago. I heave out a breath. Shake my head at Mckenna and the mess I made of our lives. “Some days, I wonder if he was right.”

  “Maverick,” she admonishes. “There’s nothing second-best about you.”

  I snort. “Most people only think I’m in the band because of my brother. He’s the real talent and I’m…the hang around.”

  “You know that’s not true. At your level, with your success, come on. You’re crazy talented.”

  “I think that’s why I wanted to write songs so badly,” I admit. “I wanted to prove that I was more than what I am. That I could be better than he said I’d be. Stupid, isn’t it? To still care or be driven by the words of a man who’s missed most of my fucking life.”

  Mckenna’s expression is almost stricken as she shakes her head. “That’s not stupid at all. That’s…well, that’s one of the most relatable things you’ve ever said to me.”

  I laugh at that and Mckenna cracks a grin.

  “We’re completely fucked up, aren’t we?” I mutter.

  “Broken beyond repair.”

  “Not even close,” I say, reaching for her.

  She comes to my side of the couch and wraps her arms around me. The second her body melts into mine, I breathe easier. She snuggles into me, and I hold her close, and together, we pull in an inhale.

  “You’re not broken, baby,” I tell her.

  “And you’re not fucked up, Mav.”

  “Some days I am,” I admit.

  “Some days I am too,” she replies, chuckling into my shoulder. She presses a kiss there.

  “I’ve never told anyone that, Mckenna. Even my brother doesn’t know. I got the rest of the truth, the background, from Nana. It was after Pop was in a nursing home. I was in high school and spending a few weeks with her in the summer. She broke down, sobbing at the kitchen table, and told me everything. She admitted my mom didn’t want us to know. To my mom, we were truly brothers, and we were hers and she didn’t want anything to change our perception of that.”

  “I understand that,” Mckenna whispers.

  I kiss the crown of her head. “I do, too.”

  Mckenna shifts in my arms, glancing up at me. “Where’s your mom now?”

  “Indonesia.”

  “What?” Mckenna laughs.

  I nod and bite my lip to keep from grinning. “She’s such a free spirit. After years of hurt, she moved on. She leaned into her creative pursuits and started painting. I mean, she kept things going for Jameson and me until the band made it. By then, Nana and Pop had passed, Big Jim was long gone, and Jameson and I were embarking on a whole new chapter. Mom asked if we minded if she pursued a long-held dream to travel and sell her art. Of course, we didn’t. And she went. She met a man—an artist, named Niko—and they’re living their best lives puttering around Asia together.” I smirk at Mckenna. “According to Mom, it’s never too late to reinvent yourself.”

  “Wow,” Mckenna murmurs, shaking her head before dropping it back to my shoulder.

  “She can’t wait to meet you,” I tack on.

  “She knows about me?”

  “I called her after we got married. She said elopements often make the best stories.”

  “But not the best marriages.”

  “Too early to tell, Mckenna.”

  Mckenna is silent after that, and I don’t push. Instead, I hold her closer and together, we watch the stars.

  That night, as I watch Mckenna sleep, I’m relieved that I shared my secret with someone. And I’m glad that it was her. I trust her more than anyone and know she understands me in ways that most people don’t. There’s a depth between us, a mutual respect and shared sense of responsibility for the other. There’s a relatability I’ve never experienced with anyone else. Not even my brother.

  And while I love the closeness that’s blossoming between us, I can’t help but worry about what comes next. On the surface, during our daily hikes, I lean into our newfound lightness. I do whatever I can to put Mckenna at ease, to make her smile, to ensure her safety.

  But at night, an inferno rages through my bloodstream. Thoughts of Branson hurting her consume me, plunging my mental state into darkness each time I watch her sleep.

  “We’re going on an adventure,” I announce the following morning.

  Mckenna stretches in bed, her auburn hair fanned across the pillow, her navy eyes blinking slowly. “What?” she mumbles, dragging herself into a seated position. The bedsheet pools around her waist as she regards me groggily.

  I grin. She’s wearing a black silk pajama set—a tank top with too-thin straps and tiny shorts—and she looks delectable. Adorable. So fucking perfect, my heart rate accelerates.

  “An adventure,” I repeat, striding over to the windows and pushing back the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. “There’s hiking. Volcanic hot springs. A delicious lunch spread. Perhaps even a waterfall.” I lift an eyebrow to tempt her.

  She smiles, and it’s like basking in pure sunshine.

  “Well, if there’s a waterfall.” She slips from bed.

  I chuckle.

  “You should’ve led with that,” she continues, teasing me, as she slides her feet into slippers and pads over to me.

  “How’d you sleep?” I wrap an arm around her shoulders.

  “I was out,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve been sleeping so well here since...” She trails off. “Just out.”

  “Good.” I kiss the top of her head. “You need the rest, Mckenna.”

  She makes a noncommittal sound in her throat and ducks under my arm. “Breakfast?”

  I gesture toward the door. “Lead the way.”

  Over the past few days, we’ve eaten breakfast on our balcony overlooking the beach.

  Mckenna hesitates by the door, and I pause, watching her. While things have been good, she’s been a touch skittish. Unsure. I hate seeing her struggle, especially when her vibrant confidence seemed unshakeable a few weeks ago.

  But it all came crashing down when her mind caught up with her. When she recalled Branson’s actions with perfect clarity. Remembering that night, in its entirety, has affected her in other ways. It’s made her question her trust in herself.

  That makes me hurt for my girl.

  “Do you want to have breakfast at the restaurant this morning?” Her voice is steady, but I hear the hope threading through it. While we’ve stayed mostly out of the public eye, with Mckenna keeping to herself to avoid being photographed, it seems she’s ready to resume some aspects of her life. She’s dipping her toe back in.

  I smirk. Does she think I’d deny her anything? “I’d love to if you’re up for it.”

  “I am.” She squares her shoulders.

  “Great. Get dressed, and I’ll call down for a table.”

  She beams, and my chest tightens. Is that all she needs? Someone to support and love her and want to spend time with her?

  Thanks for believing me, Mav.

  She’s gonna break my goddamn heart.

  I give Mckenna time to dress while I reserve a table. When she’s ready, stunning in a wrap dress that hugs her curves and causes my mouth to drop open, I take her hand and lead her out of our suite.

  We’re seated at a little table beside the beach, and Mckenna looks relaxed. Vibrant. Happy.

  “Tell me more about our adventure.” She plucks up a menu.

  “Well, the Jeep is picking us up in an hour,” I murmur off-handedly.

  Mckenna beams. “And then?”

  I grin, her zest for adventure infectious. It’s so out of character for her usual, type A, studious persona that I love learning about her carefree side. The girl who throws caution to the wind. The woman who loves the outdoors. The heart that gets mesmerized by the stars and sea.

  Allegra told me there’s more to Mckenna than meets the eye. I’m finally seeing her depth, and it’s everything. An entire cosmic shift.

  “It’s a surprise.” I tap the tip of her nose.

  “Okay. I’m turning off my mind that needs to know our full itinerary and letting you lead the way.”

  There she is. My little organizer. “I got you, Mckenna. I promise today is going to be epic.”

  She nods as a server approaches our table. “I know, Mav. I trust you.”

  Whenever she confides in me, I feel a kick behind my breastplate. My chest squeezes and my organs shift, until my heart feels too big for the space it’s allotted.

  Is she saying it for my benefit? Because she needs to believe it?

  Or because it’s a simple truth.

  She trusts me. I believe in her. And we’re together.

  God, I don’t ever want to leave the Azores. Not when I can have this honest, beautiful, carefree side of Mckenna with me. Not when I can keep her safe, protected, and away from the man who hurt her.

  Not when I can be the man who makes her laugh, plans our days, and holds her at night.

  Not when our marriage can be this good. Feel this right.

  NINE

  MCKENNA

  The wind whips through my hair as the open Jeep speeds down a meandering road. I close my eyes, breathe a salty lungful of air, and relax. My shoulders drop, the tension in my neck eases, and a hint of a smile plays along the corners of my mouth.

  Mav’s hand, steady, gently squeezes the back of my neck, and I tilt my head and turn my body toward him. He’s unintentionally become my personal lighthouse. The bright spot that guides me out of the darkness and back to stable ground. He’s become more than I ever imagined, more than I’m sure he bargained for, yet he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “You okay?” His voice is husky and sends a shiver through me as his breath wraps around the shell of my ear.

  I open my eyes. “Better today.”

  He grins. Big and broad, and so Mav, I can’t help but smile back. “Good, Mckenna. Today is gonna be good.”

  We arrive at our destination a moment later, and Mav thanks the driver. Sliding from the back seat, I give him a curious look. The lush greenery, open blue sky, and natural beauty of the Azores pulse around us.

  “What are we doing?”

  Mav points to the start of a trail. “Going on a hike.”

  “A hike?” Does he think I look like a nature kind of girl?

  He points to my sneakers. “That’s why I told you to change.”

  I tug on the strap of my neon green bikini top under the black tank top Mav recommended I wear. “And the bathing suits? There is a waterfall, right?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “You’re so cryptic.”

  “You like surprises.”

  “I hate surprises.”

  “Not with me,” he quips, so damn confident.

  I open my mouth, but the words don’t come because...he’s right. With Mav, I don’t hate anything I usually do. Instead, I look forward to his playful plans and boyish charms.

  He makes me relax and enjoy the moment. It’s a feeling of peace and contentment. Of being at home.

  I shiver again, the thought almost as terrifying as the mental loop I’ve been stuck in since I learned I married the rockstar I love to hate.

  Except I don’t hate him. Or surprises. Or this fun day, hike included, that he planned for us.

  Mav extends his hand toward the trail with a grand flourish. “After you.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning. How can I not when I’m with him?

  I take off in front of him and glance over my shoulder. “You just wanna check out my ass, don’t you?”

  “Obviously,” he replies quickly, not bothering to avert his gaze from where it’s trained on my behind.

  I snort, relieved he still finds me attractive after...well, everything he now knows.

  We begin our hike with a quiet appreciation for the gorgeous scenery. Sloping hills, shimmering sea, and bright sunshine. Mav carries the backpack with our water bottles and snacks, and I stop every now and then to snap a photo.

  “Come here,” Mav says as I pull my phone from my pocket. He wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me back against his sweaty chest. He lost his shirt a while ago, and I am definitely not complaining. Instead, I’m checking him out as often as I’m giving him shit for looking at my ass. I’m just more subtle about it.

  His heartbeat thuds into my back and steadies me, reminding me we’re together. I’m not going through this alone.

  Mav’s hand rests on my hip, anchoring me against him. A little thrill rushes down my spine as I lean into him. A reminder that it’s been a minute since we’ve been together. The warmth that rushes through my limbs reminds me that I’m still a woman. That I still have needs and wants and desires. That I’m not broken. It’s a relief to feel those stirrings after existing in a state of uncertainty and dread and a cloud of confusion.

  Mav holds my phone above us, angling it to capture our faces in the selfie. Before he takes the photo, he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to my cheek, and I burst out laughing. Mav takes the picture.

  When he shows it to me, I look like my old self. The me from university. The girl before I crossed paths with Branson.

  I look happy and healthy and utterly present in the moment.

  I look like a woman in love.

  The thought doesn’t terrify me the way it once would have. After the past few days, it energizes me. It makes me feel normal and whole. A survivor instead of a victim.

  Turning toward him, I catch him off guard as I grasp his hips, lean up onto my tippy toes, and kiss him hard on the mouth.

  Mav doesn’t waste any time. His hand cradles the back of my head as his other arm bands around my waist, pulling me closer.

  I part my lips, his tongue slips inside my mouth, and I melt into the kiss.

  My thoughts stop spiraling and instead, I let myself feel everything about this moment.

  The breeze whipping around us. The heat of Mav’s body and the growing desire between us. The feel of his hands on my skin.

  I pull away, almost shyly, and roll my lips together.

  Mav smirks. “What was that for?”

  “Just because I felt like it.”

  Mav laughs. “Well, please kiss me any and all times you feel like it.”

  I grin. “Noted. I will.”

  I tuck my phone back into my pocket and turn to resume our hike.

  Mav smacks my ass. “Pick up the pace, Byrne.”

 

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