Sing You Home by Ava Hunter
Two days later, after a myriad of tests and scans that still don’t have her remembering, Sal’s on the bus.
She should be sleeping. But she isn’t. She’s been stagnant too long. She wants to move. Explore. Live. She knows this mind-bending situation is the clusterfuck of impossible clusterfucks, but Sal can accept it so easily because of Roy. For so many months, she’s dreamed about getting away, and now she has it—freedom.
She’s in a new world, on her way to a new life.
Though she’s nervous, she’s not afraid. She spent enough time being afraid, being lied to, in her old life. She’ll never go back to that.
Sal cracks the door to the bedroom and steps out into the hallway, swaying slightly from the rocking motion. The bus is massive, with sleeper bunks and a large lounge and kitchen. Jace sprawls in a lower bunk, trying to nap. Seeing her, he raises rusty-red eyebrows, his hand.
Sal waves back.
She likes Jace. She likes them all. She feels like they root her. Like she can learn everything about herself, everything she lost, and they will hold it. They will help her. They already have. The way they stayed with her at the hospital, how they took up for her with the police. She won’t forget that.
As she pads down the hallway, Sal looks for Luke. She hopes he went to bed. He’s been by her side for two straight days. He’s exhausted. When she reaches the second bedroom, the door cracked a few inches, she hears Luke’s voice. Soft. Hushed. Smiling, she moves to push open the cracked door but stops. Luke’s on the phone, his handsome profile pulled into a worried frown. “I know. I know. It has to be later, though. Now’s not the time.” He pauses, listening to the person on the other end of the line. Sal leans closer.
“Okay,” he says softly. “Love you too.”
Sal pulls back, his words a cold shock to her system. Her mouth goes dry as her heart pounds out a furious beat in her ears.
Before Luke can spot her, she turns and retreats down the hall, her confused mind trying to make sense of what she’s just heard. Could there be someone else? She doesn’t know. Not sure if she wants to.
When Sal gets to the dining area, she slips into a booth, tucking her bare feet beneath herself. She tries to relax, tries to force Luke’s conversation from her mind. She settles back against the cushions, feeling cozy in the buttery sweatpants and hoodie that Luke brought her this morning. They’re too big, too expensive, but they’re heaven against her skin.
Propping her chin in her hand, she stares out the window at the flash of her surroundings. Alabama traffic signs disappear as they cross over into Tennessee.
Almost unconsciously, Sal runs a finger across the crooked scar on her hairline. She scowls, the simple action calling to mind Roy. She hates that he’s the one who sewed her up and got her well. Hates that he’s the one who kept her alive. Why? And for what purpose?
“Hey.”
A rumbling voice drifts through her dreary thoughts. Sal glances up to see Seth sliding in across from her. “How you feelin’?”
“Fine,” she says too quickly. It’s got Seth frowning at her like he doesn’t believe her.
“How far away are we?”
“Still got about an hour to go.” Seth gives her a look. “You should get some rest.”
“That’s what the hospital was for.” Her lips curve up at the edges. “Rest and torment.”
Seth leans back in the booth and laugh-groans. “Glad to see you still got your stubborn streak.”
“Oh, I’m stubborn, am I?”
“The worst. In the best kind of way.”
She smiles at that. She likes hearing about herself. She’d like her memory back even better. Dr. Newsome warned her that it could come back gradually or not at all. Both options, Sal isn’t fine with.
“Seth?” she asks. “We’re close, right?”
He hesitates, then nods. “We are.”
“Why?” Sal senses there’s a past to her and Seth. He’s not just Luke’s brother. It’s something else.
He rubs the back of his head. An uncomfortable look settles over his face. “Sal, maybe we should wait until you . . .”
He trails off when she shakes her head.
“No,” she says, frustrated. She knows they don’t want to push her, but if they try to hide everything, she’ll never remember anything. “I want to know.” She eyes him dead-on. “You said we were best friends . . . were we . . . ever anything more?”
Seth’s eyes widen. “No.” He lets out a breath. “I love you, Sal, but not like that.”
Sal flushes in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t be.” Seth reaches across the table to take her hand. He rubs his thumb back and forth over her knuckles in a gesture Sal finds comforting. “You can tell me anything.”
“Does that go the same for me?” Sal volleys, eyeing him evenly.
Seth sighs. “Goddamnit.” She smiles when she sees him relenting. He levels her with a scowl. “Fine. But Luke’s gonna be pissed as hell if he hears I was layin’ this on you your first day home, you hear me?”
She nods, mimes zipped lips.
“It ain’t pretty,” he says.
“That’s okay.” Her heart speeds up. It’s so fast she can hear it in her ears.
Seth swallows thickly. “’Bout ten years ago, back when we first hit it big, I got into some trouble on the road.”
Sal cocks her head. “What kind of trouble?”
“Drugs.” Seth says it so point-blank she winces. “Cocaine. I hid it for a few months, but when I started missing gigs, sure as shit, Luke found out.” A small chuckle. “Man, he was so pissed; he tried to kick me out of the band. You threatened me with bodily harm. We’d been on tour for about a month when you found me.”
Sal licks her lips. “Found you what?”
“Overdosin’ in the goddamn bathtub.”
“Jesus,” she whispers, knocked down by the news.
“You picked up on it first. You knew something was wrong. The night it happened, you followed me back to the motel after the show.” A tight smile spreads across Seth’s face. “You wiped the blood from my nose and used your med kit to hook me up to an IV.”
She frowns. “I did that?”
She looks down at her hands. Hands that kept blood in. Hands that jumpstarted a heart. It’s unfathomable to her that she once had a job. Sal tries to picture the memory. Ambulances. Giving aid to those who needed it. But all she gets is a bottomless blackness.
“You did.” Seth’s grip on Sal’s hand tightens. “You took care of me and you kept it out of the press.” His expression fills with shame. “I didn’t deserve any of that, and yet you did it.” Seth’s voice breaks as he adds, “I coulda burned down the band, every hope and dream Luke had, and you wouldn’t let me. You wouldn’t let me embarrass myself, and you wouldn’t give up on me.”
The gratefulness in Seth’s voice has Sal reeling.
“You’re better now?” She can’t help the concern creeping into her question.
“I haven’t touched the stuff since that night.” Seth’s voice is quiet as he meets Sal’s gaze. “I owe you my life. You saved me, Sal.”
Sal moves her head to stare out the window, her heart wrecked by the revelation. She knew there was something between them, had felt that since their first encounter in the diner, and while it’s not romantic love, it’s love nonetheless.
There’s wetness on her face, and when she reaches up to wipe her cheek, her hand fills with hot tears. When she looks back at Seth, he’s watching her with worry. She has to tell him.
“You saved me too,” she says hoarsely.
Seth’s brow furrows slightly, but he keeps a tight grip on her hand. The encouraging look in his eyes bids her to go on. “That day on the beach . . . I tried . . . I was going to . . .”
He’s pale, but he nods like he knows where she’s going with this. Finally, Sal lets loose a wild shudder. “If you hadn’t stopped me . . .”
The words hang heavy like an anchor between them.
She gives a wobbly smile. “I’m glad you were there.”
“Me too.” Seth smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now we’re even, okay?”
“Yeah,” Sal says, wondering. She’d swear there’s more to his story. “Even.”
Caught off guard by the confession, Seth collapses back in the booth. It feels like there’s a gaping hole in his chest. One that ain’t gonna close anytime soon.
He watches as Sal sits silent and still in the booth, her brow furrowed as she processes what he’s told her.
Seth’s chest gives a twinge. He wonders if telling her about their past was a mistake. She looks too tired, too thin. He wants to feed her, to put her to bed, but knows Sal would have none of it. Sal could eat a man alive and then go back to calmly drinking her coffee.
Still, he could sense her frustration. Wanting to know more, wanting to dig around for the truth. Seth’s got to tell Luke that she ain’t gonna be such an easy sell on his whole keeping-the-past-a-secret-until-Sal’s-ready plan.
And Christ. The question about them being together. Seth wouldn’t touch Sal with a ten-foot pole. Not because she wasn’t gorgeous. She was. And not because his brother would kill him.
Seth just didn’t feel that way toward her.
He and Sal—they had something deeper, and he wouldn’t fuck that up for anything in the world.
He glances at Sal, her distant stare still on the window.
“When was the last time you ate something?” Seth says, standing. “I’ll make you a sandwich—”
“I know how to make a sandwich.” Sal lifts a palm. “My memory ain’t that shot.” Her small frame slips out of the booth and moves to the fridge. She eyes him, a teasing smile playing across her lips. “It’s mayo and jelly, right?”
Seth shrugs. “Your eating habits were always questionable.”
Sal scoffs.
Barking a laugh, Seth leaves Sal to make her sandwich and goes to find his brother.
He bypasses Mort and Jace, who are having a hushed conversation in the hall, to find Luke in the lounge.
“Sal’s up,” Seth says as a greeting.
Luke’s eyes flicker, flashing with worry and longing. “She okay?”
“She’s fine, man.” Seth claps him on the shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “She’s making a sandwich, relax.”
Luke grunts and tugs down his trucker cap. “Good.”
Seth knows his brother’s about to go half-mad. He doesn’t blame him, though. Luke’s trying to walk the fine line between giving Sal space and being beside her every damn chance he gets. He just got her back after nine long months of thinking she was dead. Seth would want to hold on to her too.
Seth sits across from Luke on one of the black leather couches. “Listen, I know you know, but it ain’t gonna be so easy keepin’ everything from Sal. She’s smart. She’s askin’ questions.”
Luke’s jaw clenches. “What happened?”
“Nothin’.” Seth holds his brother’s eyes. “Yet.”
Dipping forward, Luke laces a hand across the back of his neck and lets out a deep sigh. “I’ll tell her everything, but she’s gotta be stronger first. That’s all I care about. Get her into therapy, get her healthy. That’s the plan for now.”
Seth nods, telling Luke he understands. He’s got his brother’s back.
Always.
From behind them, Mort’s boom of a voice sideswipes any further conversation. “Speaking of plans, son. You think I could get you boys in the studio tomorrow?”
Jace, coming down the aisle to sit beside them, shakes his head. Yet his eyes, intent and hopeful, land on Luke.
Seth stifles a dry laugh. Mort’s got some balls of steel to ask Luke to leave Sal, not yet back twenty-four hours. It’s typical Mort. His I-get-what-I-want act. But he’s gotten them this far—arranged for the bus, smoothed things over with Griff Greyson, finagled them out of the tour contract—so Seth’s gotta give him that.
Luke shifts in his seat, his face neutral, though his eyes betray irritation. “What’d I tell you?”
Mort’s cell phone goes off. He raises it up in surrender. “Just to talk, son. Nothin’ more than that.” Then, before Luke can really lay into him, Mort answers with a curt, “What’s happenin’?”
“It might not be too bad,” Jace hedges. “We could go. Hear him out.”
The notion that Jace would even be okay with this has Seth frowning. Even Luke looks surprised.
Mort approaches them, the neon glow of the phone lighting up his weathered face. “Boys, I got some bad news you ain’t gonna like.”
“Is there any bad news you do like?” Luke asks with a dry grin.
“Hmm.” Seth ticks off a list on his fingers. “The baby’s not yours, aliens have landed, Griff Greyson fell into a well . . .”
Both Luke and Jace laugh.
But the laughter dies off once Mort shows them his phone.
Seth groans and rubs his eyes.
Luke swears darkly. “Son of a bitch.”