Chapter 1

Darryl Nelson

“George! George!!” My dad’s deep voice cuts over the noise of the busy airport. I follow the direction of his gaze until I see his best friend looking anxiously around the bustling airport. Then my eyes land on her. Stevie fucking McGabe.

My dad’s best friend, Georgina McGabe, barrels towards him at an excited pace that belies her forty-seven years. She nearly knocks the relic of a sign that my dad was clutching.

It was the same one they had been using since they were kids, with faded green writing and shit stuck all over it. In all honesty, it was more tape than sign now.

George knocks into the oversized suitcase of some little old lady as she runs over to us.

“Jakey!!” She squeals, flinging her arms around his neck. He chokes slightly with the force of the contact, before laughing and picking her up to swing her round in a circle, hitting the little old lady again with her flailing legs in doing so.

She scowls at the two of them, and I flash her a tight-lipped grimace as an apology. She hobbles away muttering.

“Oh my gosh, you two are a menace in airports,” George’s husband, AJ, disentangles them from each other.

He pulls Dad in for a tight hug while George squeals again and wraps Mom in a tight squeeze, rocking their bodies back and forth in that annoying way women do. “I’m just so excited! Aren’t you excited?! My best friend has finally decided to come home!”

George clasps my dad’s hand and the two of them start chattering like they don’t talk every fucking day.

“They’re so weird,” Vinnie’s quiet voice from beside me makes me snort. My little brother was a loner, preferring to spend his time with his nose buried in the newest Dungeons and Dragons handbook than to make real-life friends.

I have to admit, I found the relationship between my dad and his best friend difficult to understand. I had thought I had that for a long time, but I guess not everyone in the McGabe family knew what loyalty was. “Hey, boys, do you mind grabbing the rest of the bags for me?”

My mom gives us a tired smile from behind her sunglasses.

She’d seemed wiped out the last few weeks. I’m guessing it was from all the stress of moving, but there was something off between her and Dad recently. I guess I hadn’t been making things any easier on them both, but most days I didn’t give a fuck.

I nod, and loop my arm round Vinnie’s shoulders, leading him over to the pile which had been abandoned once my dad had spotted George and her family. I had been dreading this day for months.

We’d finished school nearly two weeks ago and had spent all of that time packing up our home back in San Diego.

The moving vans had set off yesterday, but Dad had decided that we would fly out to San Francisco, saying that it would be more comfortable for us all. Our folks had only sprung the fact that we were moving here a month or so ago.

At first, I had been relieved; the way the house was filled with a tangible tension lately, I was convinced they were going to announce they were getting divorced.

But moving away from school, my few friends…my band…once the reality of that had sunk in, I almost wished they would’ve split up. I only had a few more weeks, then I would be starting senior year in a new school where I knew no one. Well, except Stevie fucking McGabe.

I suck the silver hoop which I’d had pierced through the left side of my lower lip in between my teeth as I seek her out again. She was so fucking perfect, it almost hurt to look at her. Her long auburn hair was waist length now, twisted over her shoulder in a thick plait.

Her mismatched eyes twinkled as she laughed at something her little brother, Grayson, said, pushing his shoulder good-naturedly.

As soon as those eyes—one green and one blue—met mine, a look of something akin to hurt clouded them, and her face fell. “How are you doing, Darryl?”

AJ slaps a large hand on my shoulder, and I realize that I no longer have to look up to him.

When I was younger, he seemed to tower over me, he always seemed so larger than life, but now he was sporting more strands of silver than black on his head, and the solid body didn’t feel quite as firm when I returned the hug he pulled me in for.

“Yeah…I guess I’m okay, AJ.” I can’t stop myself from looking over at where my dad was still locked in a serious conversation with George, their hands linked together. There was something going on, but I didn’t know what it was, or how serious.

AJ gives my back one last slap, then moves over to speak to Vinnie.

I’d been getting into a little trouble back home, but I didn’t think I’d done anything serious enough that warranted moving eight hours away, and Vinnie definitely hadn’t, so whatever was up was something to do with our folks.

Or our grandad? Fuck! What if Dad’s dad was sick? Or his wife, Helen? She’d always been pretty cool to us; it would suck if anything was wrong with either of them. Worrying my lip piercing still, deep in thought, I don’t notice Stevie until I’m almost on top of her.

“Hey, Darryl.” Her soft voice makes me freeze, and when I swallow, I can taste her delicate fragrance—she always smelled vaguely of patchouli, like she’d been near a joss stick recently.

I twist my mouth into a crooked half-smile and push past her without replying. I wasn’t going to play her games again this time.

***

“There are my boys!” My grandad and Helen are waiting outside our new house when we pull up and pile out of the assorted cars.

“Hey! What about me? I guess I’m just chopped fucking liver, huh?”

My dad shakes his head as his dad shrugs at him. Helen tuts at the two of them and gives me a peck on the cheek. My mom glares at me as I try to withstand the urge to reach up and wipe it.

Yeah…no, it’s not working. Her blue eyes roll at me as I hitch my sleeve down over my hand and swipe at the spot of wetness on my face. “Abi! You’re looking well, dear.” “Thank you, Helen. But after all the traveling, I feel beat.”

My mom laughs and runs her hand through her silver bob cut hair. At fifty-one she was still a metal goddess. Both her and Dad were adorned with an array of piercings and colorful tattoos.

As a kid, we had traveled round the world a few times over on tour with my mom’s metal band, and so much of who I was now had been formed during that time.

“Well, let’s get you moved in and then you can go rest,” George links her arm through my mom’s, and they make their way inside, leaving us men to unload the cars.

I lean back into the car and grab my bag off the back seat, catching a glimpse of Stevie in the wing mirror as I straighten up, her eyes fixed firmly onto my ass as she bites her bottom lip.

I smirk as I turn towards her, and to my delight she turns red, and spins on her heel to disappear into her house.

Which yes, because my folks seem to be in some weird co-dependent relationship with hers, is right next door to my new house. House, not home…home is back in San Diego. Although, I’ll begrudgingly admit that the new house was ten times better than our old one.

For one thing, it actually was a house not a vast apartment, which is what we had been living in before, which meant it had a garage which my dad had already promised we could soundproof and set my drums up in.

I knew the neighborhood well—Stevie and her family had been living in their house forever.

Our grandads had bought it when our folks had started university here, and George and AJ had stayed living in it after my folks had relocated to San Diego.

Over the years they had extended and remodeled, but there were little things which remained, like the turquoise tile in the bathroom which my dad had put up for George.

My new room was freshly painted white—my choice because I couldn’t bring myself to give a fuck what the bedroom in the house I didn’t want to live in actually looked like—by my dad who had spent several weekends over here getting the house ready with the help of AJ, Grayson, and Grandad.

My bag slides off my shoulder, landing on the floor with a dull thud, and I make my way over to the queen-sized bed, which was pushed up underneath the window.

I’m not sure how long had passed since I shut my eyes for a moment, but when I open them again, the sun has set.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I turn my head to glance out of the window. My breath hitches as I realize I can see across the driveway…straight into Stevie’s bedroom.

Where she is standing brushing her hair wearing a skimpy pair of boy shorts and a lacy camisole. Fuck me…Maybe this move wouldn’t be all bad.