I didn’t see Bryan again until high school, and by then I was so full of myself. My ego had inflated right along with my cup size. I’d believed my good looks and curves would be my salvation, my way out from under the shameful shadow my mother had cast over me. I was so certain that I’d make something out of my life.

I’d been wrong.

3

I paced while waiting for my family. They were coming in to catch our second performance at the Garden. Over in the corner, War, the lucky bastard, had his arms wrapped around Lace. She wasn’t smiling but looked rocker chick sexy having knotted a tour t-shirt underneath her breasts in a way that accentuated them and exposed a great deal of skin above a pair of dark jeans that fit her like a glove.

Watching the two of them together made me even more edgy. I looked away, spinning the leather cuff on my watchband around to check the time again. Thirty more minutes before we went on. Shit. Since we were the opening band for the mega group Brutal Strength there was no way Tempest could go on late.

Where were they? Their plane landed hours ago. Last night’s winter storm probably had something to do with the delay.

“Bry.”

I turned in relief at the sound of a trio of familiar voices calling my name and had only seconds to brace myself before being enveloped in a group hug. “Mom.” I kissed the top of the brunette head that only came to the center of my chest now. My mom might be tiny, but a more resilient woman I’d never met, except perhaps for one other. The crap hand life had dealt my mom hadn’t made her bitter. She’d only become more determined to succeed, sacrificing everything over the years to take care of me and my sisters. I could never repay her for all of that, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

I rocked back on the heels of my favorite pair of motorcycle boots and looked at my younger sisters. Miriam was the oldest, a senior now. Her I worried about the most. Though as driven as my mom to succeed, she had a talent for getting into trouble. She acted first and thought things through second…if at all. Recently, it’d taken quite a bit of finesse on my mom’s part to keep the school from suspending her when she’d been caught up on the roof having an impromptu snowball fight with her friends from the drama department. Miriam’s vivacious personality and good looks were ideal for the career she wanted as an actress. If only she could stay out of trouble.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I whispered in Miriam’s ear. “It’s freezing outside and you’re practically coming out of that blouse.”

“Lighten up, Bry.” She smiled and flipped a lock of black hair over her shoulder. Eyes the same grey green as my own twinkled mischievously. “It’s a rock concert not Mass.”

Before I could pursue the matter further, my sister Ann, a book tucked under her arm, threw her arms around my waist and hugged me pretty damn tight. My heart warmed. I returned the hug with equal enthusiasm. Ann I didn’t worry about. She was just as studious as Miriam, but with a gentle soul and a level head. I tucked a strand of her straight brown hair behind her ear. She peered up over the top of her plastic frames at me.

“Still enjoying working weekends at the veterinary clinic?” I asked her.

The enthusiastic smile on her face broadened. “I’ve got two shifts now. Mom says when I’m a junior I can add one day during the week, too.”

“That’s great, Ann.” Animals were her passion. Always had been. Though we’d never been able to have a real pet, she’d collected the stuffed versions since she was three. She wouldn’t give any of them away and had so many now that they covered all the built in shelves in her bedroom. I planned to get her a real live Labrador puppy to go along with the house I was saving up to buy for all three of them.

“War says to tell you we’re on in five,” King announced.

I nodded, turning back to my family, frowning when I caught the look that passed between our drummer and Miriam. What the hell? King was totally checking her out. I was gonna kill him. And eff it if Miriam wasn’t returning the favor. Dammit. She was even arching her back to make her boobs look bigger.

I grabbed her arm.

“Bry,” Miriam hissed. “You’re hurting me.”

I ignored her, guiding all three of my women to one of the roadies I trusted. “Mark, can you take my mom and sisters to their seats?”

“Sure thing, Bullet.”

“Thanks.” I laid a palm against my mom’s soft cheek. “Mark will bring you backstage after the show. I want to introduce you to all the tour personnel.”

“Can we meet Avery Jones?” Miriam asked face bright with anticipation.

My smile flat lined. It’d been a bit of work, but I’d managed to avoid Red since she’d dumped me. But far better to spend the evening with her than endure another night watching Lace with War. “Sure.” I sighed.

4

I sat on the top of a stack of amps, watching the Jackson family reunion, on the outside now looking in, extinguishing the desire to be included with them again before it could unfurl completely. My chin dropped down to my chest, the length of my hair sliding forward effectively concealing the longing on my face.

Stop it, I told myself. That kind of family love and loyalty in all its Hallmark loveliness wasn’t for me. Once upon a time maybe, but not anymore.

Why couldn’t I accept the way things were? I didn’t belong with them anymore, no matter how much I wished things were different, and Bryan was never going to be mine. My gaze followed him after his mom and sisters left and he moved to take the stage.

I hopped down from my corner perch and wandered closer as Bryan and the guys got ready to perform. I’d arrived too late last night to see the show. I watched King take off his shirt as he climbed up onto the drum riser, and my eyes widened at what I saw. I shook my head in appreciative disbelief. When had King gotten those guns? He used to be the chubby one. Not even remotely so now. He was as cut as an Abercrombie and Fitch model, a sexy Latino one with his square jaw and bronze skin and dark closely cropped hair.

My gaze drifted over to Sager, the other half of Tempest’s comic duo. He and King had been best friends as long as Bryan and War. Everyone in the band knew their constant joking was really a coping mechanism, their way of dealing with the crap they’d been through. Their humor was as much a part of who they were as the clothes they wore, although Sager wasn’t wearing much right now, just faded jeans. The lanky bassist had recently dyed his curly brown hair jet black. Long uneven wisps of it framed his angular face.