Page 34 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
My neck feels like it just encountered whiplash. “It’s almost two in the morning.”
“And? It isn’t going to build itself, now is it?”
“What’s the rush?”
His feet falter just the slightest bit, but it’s all I need to tell me there is something about his extravagant shed that he isn’t telling me. “Sometimes it’s easier than trying to sleep.”
With that, he heads for the back door, and a few minutes later I hear the pounding of the hammer.
It isn’t the sounds of the city I’m used to, but it’s definitely a symphony of its own for me to write my lyrics to.
My eyes burn from exhaustion. From the long hours I put in last night on two songs, only to be interrupted by Grady when he was at my door and then again when another nightmare ripped through him long after the hammer stopped pounding.
I’d been on my way to his room when he woke up, and I’d silently retreated back to mine to let him have his privacy.
I heard the clink of the ice in his glass.
And I’m the one who, at four in the morning, pulled the blanket over him where he slept on the couch after it had slipped off and fallen to the floor.
So now I’m doing the only thing I can think of to help him. The one thing my Italian mother would do if she were in my shoes. I am going to cook for him.
Antipasto. Lasagna. Cannoli.
My stomach rumbles at the thought as I unload my groceries on the belt at the checkout stand. Of course, the tabloids catch my eye with their outlandish tales that are so far from true it’s laughable.
I know that.
Yet, I still stare when I see a picture of Jett. The hurt still real. The heartbreak still raw.
It’s an old photo of a performance I remember, but US Weekly says it was from last week. At least that helps with the sting of the headline below it.
“Jett’s Wild Weekend with Women Galore.”
“Hey, aren’t you the one who’s staying at Grady Malone’s house?”
The chipper demeanor from the woman behind me is enough to stop me from picking up that magazine and torturing myself with the article inside. I look over to an inquisitive expression set on round cheeks and wide eyes of a tall brunette.
“Yes.” I’m not sure what else to say.
“I saw you with him at the farmers’ market the other day.” Well, at least there is a reason for her to know me. “And I’m his sister-in-law’s best friend.” She holds her hand out to me. “Desi Whitman.”
“Hi,” I say as I shake her hand. “Sister-in-law?”
“Yes. The only one there is. Officer Sexy’s wife.”
“Officer Sex—oh, Grant. I’ve met him.” This time my smile is sincere.
“How can you forget meeting any of the Malone men? I mean, it’s as if they were put here to show the rest of us we’ll never reach their level of perfection.”
I laugh as I remember my thoughts of a Malone sandwich the other day. “Ain’t that the truth?”
Her grin widens. “Well, it’s nice to meet the woman in Grady’s life.”
“We’re not—” I begin to correct in an effort to keep up my I’m-with-Jett charade, but her next words have mine dying on my lips.
“He deserves the best after everything he’s endured. Such a horrific thing to go through. I mean . . . they were best friends, and he couldn’t save him. God, can you imagine?”
My head reels with this new information, but I keep my smile plastered on my face, feeling slightly guilty for wanting more details when it’s obvious Grady would have told me himself if he wanted me to know.
