Seaside Pictures Series Book 4
Autor:in
Rachel Van Dyken
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Andrew, a struggling musician, finds himself creatively blocked and emotionally adrift. When he meets Bronte, a single mother dealing with her daughter's health issues, he feels a renewed sense of purpose. As Andrew decides to stay in Seaside, Oregon, longer, he and Bronte navigate their growing attraction amidst personal challenges and family dynamics. Their journey is one of healing, love, and unexpected connections that could change their lives forever.
Chapter 1
Andrew
The music hadnât died a natural death.
Sometimes, I wondered if my own bad choices had killed it.
So, when my bandmate looked at me a second time and asked if I was losing my shit, I simply shrugged, put on my sunglasses, and leaned back against the wall.
We had five tracks to compose.
Five tracks to record.
I was supposed to write at least three of them.
I had written the word âthe.â
For no other reason than it was the only word I could think of that rhymed with huh.
Not that we needed a huh anywhere in the damn lyrics.
Itâs just the only word that kept rolling around in my head. Huh, look at that; everyoneâs happy but you. Huh, imagine that; our album went double platinum. Huh, amazing, you have everything you could have possibly ever wanted.
Except for your best friend fully back in your life the way he used to be.
All the bridges in LA you burned during your addiction.
And the only girl capable of putting a smile on your face.
The same pregnant girl who was currently sitting in Will Sutherlandâs lap, my ex-best friend, co-lead singer of Adrenaline, and pain in my ass.
He was worse than a parent.
Like the father figure Iâd never wanted.
Who wouldnât leave me the hell alone.
He hovered as if heâd had something to do with bringing me into the world, even though nine months back, heâd threatened to take me out of it.
I stared them down.
And quickly looked away when Angelica Greeneâs tear-filled eyes met mine.
I was the reason she was still sad.
Me.
Because every time she spoke to me, my throat felt like it was closing up; and every time he kissed her, I wondered if things would be different if I could change the past.
My mistakes?
Roads Iâd traveled?
Taken because of my misplaced jealousy.
âDrew!â Ty threw a drumstick at my face. âSeriously, we only have a few weeks down here before the second leg of the tour. You gotta have something in that notebook of yours.â
I clutched the leather cover tighter against my chest. âThatâs for me, not the band.â
âSelfish ass,â Trevor mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood and stretched then went back into the sound booth as if that was going to fix the problem. âYouâve been acting like you have a stick up your ass all day, and to think I was starting to wonder if you were the funny one again.â
âIâve always been the funny one,â I shot back with a bit of a grin and then rolled my eyes. âIâm just exhausted. Itâs not like weâre young spring chickens anymore.â
âHey, speak for yourself.â Trevor grinned.
âYou literally have ketchup on your shirt and another substance Iâve been spending the last hour trying to decipher.â I pointed out, as the rest of the guys fell into laughter. âAnd youâŠâ I jabbed a finger at Ty. ââŠget to have twins in three months, so Iâd stop laughing.â
That shut him up, and then he got this dopey grin on his face that had me so jealous I had to look away, which meant my gaze was back to Will and Angelica and the way he gently touched her stomach.
âYeahâŠâ Will leaned forward. ââŠIâll admit my back hurts more than it feels better.â
âThatâs the sex, moron,â I snapped and then realized Iâd just made a sex joke about them and wanted to crawl under the piano and saw off the legs.
Willâs mouth quirked. âI think itâs that and trying to keep everyone in line while still singing next to shithead.â He smirked. âThatâs you, by the way.â
âHey, guysâŠâ Trevor ran a hand through his hair. ââŠIâm around fighting kids twenty-four-seven because the joys of parenthood donât stop when you bring them on tour with your wife, so letâs just break for today, all right?â
Braden, one of my protĂ©gĂ©s, chose that minute to walk in, an extra pep in his step since getting engaged to his former life coach. He pulled a popsicle from his mouth and then jerked his chin over at me. âWho died?â
âThatâs it.â I shot to my feet. âI need a break.â
âWe were on a break!â Ty felt the need to yell.
Everyone fell into laughter, me included.
âAll right, Braden, you can work on some of your own tracks since Iâve got the studio, and, Drew, if you could kindly find someone to help pull those drumsticks out of your ass, that would be super-duper.â
âRoger.â I winked. âHopefully, sheâll be hot.â
âStay away from my mom, dick face!â Braden yelled.
We all stared, and then I laughed. Iâd been pining after her ever since our first meeting, but because I didnât want my protĂ©gĂ© murdering me, I did the less fun and more creepy thing and ogled her when she wasnât looking. I also tried to engage in multiple conversations that ended up with her staring at me like she couldnât quite figure out why I was speaking. âYou do realize sheâs only three years older than me, right?â
âHe likes them old!â Ty held up his hand for a high five; meanwhile, Braden looked as if he was ready to mow me over with the tour bus.
Trevor whispered under his breath, âI think thatâs your cue to leave, bro.â
âYup!â I grabbed my guitar, shoved it in my case, and let the door slam behind me as I made my way into the dreary, salty ocean air.
It was raining.
Had been raining for ten days straight.
Seaside, Oregon, everyone!
I used to think this was a place people went to die or retire, or maybe just really embrace their depression. Instead, it turned out to be one of my favorite places in the world, to the point where I was spending more time on the off-season with my bandmates here than I was back in LA.
They were my family, after all. Even if we were still semi-dysfunctional, and it helped that another band of friends, AD2, lived here along with Zane Andrews, a guy I toured with and was alsoâsurprise, fucking surpriseâmarried with one kid and another on the way.
Iâd lived the high life so long, literally, that the minute I got my shit together and jumped off the train, it was like Iâd missed everything that was important about your twentiesâall the lessons. Instead, Iâd made all the mistakes, and now that I was thirty-six, kind of felt like I had nothing to show for it except a shit ton of money, fame, and scars from my past.
So many scars. So much baggage I was sick from it.
With a sigh, I put in my earbuds, and the tracks Iâd laid earlier buzzed in my ears. I just needed the right lyrics. I made my way down the boardwalk, careful not to make eye contact.
When you made eye contact, people recognized you.
And wanted pictures.
And pictures meant smiling.
And talking.
And doing all the other useless things humans did when they were impressed with what other humans did for a living and wanted to use it to brag on Instagram.
I was so over it today. I didnât have the mental or physical energy to put on the mask and grin at someoneâs expensive phone.
And feeling lonely, if I was being completely honest. All my bandmates had someone, and it wasnât like I hadnât tried. Hell, Iâd even taken out Penelope, Tyâs wife, before she gave me a firm no, put me in the friend zone, then promised to bother me forever until I found a wife who could actually put up with meâher words.
Maybe that was why I was complete shit at writing love songs.
The only love Iâd ever experienced happened to me when I was in my teens then died a slow, painful death as I numbed myself with drugs, and now that I was in my thirties and touring again, while secretly trying to do a solo album, things just feltâŠ
Stale.
That was the word.
Stale.
Like there was a path I was supposed to take, but nothing interested me enough to want to even take a step in any direction.
I dodged a group of girls as I made my way past the aquarium. Shrieks followed by whispers and then footsteps against the cement. I picked up my speed.
I was too slow.
A tap, tap, tap hit me in the back. âAre you Drew Amhurst?â
I hung my head. I wasnât like the rest of the guys. I didnât do fake smile well when I was stressed, and Iâd never been so stressed in my entire life.
Slowly, I turned on my heel and stared at the brave girl whoâd approached. She couldnât have been more than sixteen, pitch-black hair pulled back into a sleek low ponytail, and she had giant sunglasses covering her eyes. Her skin was flawless, her lips full. Huh.
Damn it! That word!
She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldnât put my finger on why. Finally, I relaxed the breath Iâd been holding and responded, âWhoâs asking?â
I smirked down at her then widened my smile as her breathing quickened. Most girls didnât know where to look: my nose ring, earrings, lip ring, multiple tattoos decorating my arms and chest, or the blinding, albeit semi-fake, smile.
I always gave them time to figure it out.
âMe.â She pointed to herself and then fidgeted with her iPhone. It had a pink case with a bunny on it. God, Iâd never felt so old. âYouâre my favorite â well, and my momâs, though she would never admit it to your face. I was just wondering if I could get a picture?â
Fuck. At thirty-six, I was almost extinct, wasnât I? Her mom? The hell!
âDid you know that every picture someone takes of me steals another part of my soul?â I said. What? It slipped! She had a bunny case! Calm your tits.
She gaped and then went completely pale.
I reached out and touched her shoulder. âIâm kidding. Relax.â Her body was warm and stiff beneath my fingers. I tilted my head at her while she nodded quickly.
âYeah, sorry. Itâs just been a really hard day.â
Somehow, I doubted she knew the meaning of the word hard with her designer sunglasses, Louis Vuitton purse, and acrylic nails, but I took her for her word and held out my hand. My black fingernails looked out of place against my long-sleeved white pullover, which was a completely random thing for me to notice and a little irritating, yet again reminding me that Iâd been off.
She pressed the sleek phone into my hand, and I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Geez, she felt frail. I frowned a bit and then said, âSmile.â
I took three shots.
Her smile was hesitant. I didnât pull away right away but felt like I should say something. I hated it when girls were insecure; hated, even more, when they starved themselves to death to try to obtain the perfect look that was nearly impossible to achieve.
âYou should eat more,â I said softly. âYouâll waste away if you keep it up, beautiful.â
She stiffened even more. âYou donât know me.â
âAnd you donât know me,â I fired back. âNot really. I just want you to know, from one stranger to another, youâre beautiful the way you are.â
Her other friend approached then, at least I thought it was one of her friends. She was taller, obviously older, with dark Prada sunglasses and curves that went on for days. âThanks for doing that. Itâs been a hard day with the diagnosisââ
âMom!â the girl snapped. âDonât.â
âDiagnosis?â I repeated, my stomach sinking. And how the hell was this person her mother? She looked about my age, maybe a year or two older. Maybe. I couldnât even tell. She was too damn beautiful for words. Why the hell did she look so familiar anyway? I couldnât see her eyes, but I was instantly attracted, instantly wanted more.
The girl turned away quickly. âLetâs go, Mom. Apparently, I need to eat more.â
I felt that mom-glare all the way to my toes as she jerked off her sunglasses and eyed me up and down.
I nearly choked on my tongue. âMrs. Connors?â
Had I just lost my frigginâ mind? Was I imagining shit now? Or had I actually conjured the woman I was just thinking of? Like a crazy person, my gaze whipped to the girl and her friend and then back to Bradenâs hot-as-hell mom, my mouth forming the word âwhatâ but nothing coming out.
âSheâs been in remission,â Bradenâs mom said with a hollow voice. âBut today the tests said it might have come back. They arenât sure, butââ
âWhat can I do?â I interrupted.
âI think youâve done enough for our family, donât you?â She didnât say it as an insult.
Iâd basically taken her son under my wing and made him one of the most famous stars on the planet. Iâd toured with him. Iâd helped him after thereâd been a tragic shooting at his concert. I had tried to be his rock while his mom stayed home to take care of his two younger sisters. For all my fascination with her, Iâd seen her maybe five times in the few years Iâd known him, but every other time, her hair had been lighter and shorter. Amazing what darker hair did and, paired with those eyesâŠ
I was drowning.
I know she was thankful that sheâd been able to stay back and not worry about work while her daughter sought treatment.
His money provided them with everything.
And yet, money didnât fight cancer, did it?
âShit.â I hung my head and turned toward Bradenâs little sister. âIâm sorry. I wondered why you looked familiar. Amelia, right?â
The girl shrugged. âYeah, but hey, donât worry. Thereâs a reason youâre my favorite. You saved us from having to throw dear Mom here on the street to sell her body. I mean, can you imagine?
âAmelia!â Mrs. Connorsâ face flushed bright red. âI would neverâ I meanâŠâ She looked ready to pull out her own dark luscious brown hair. âLow blood sugar. We really should get goingâŠâ
âHey, wait.â I grabbed Mrs. Connorsâ arm. âGive me your number.â
Amelia gaped between us, jaw dropped. âMom! Heâs like super famous. Stop stalling! Use your wordsââ
âI have words,â her mom snapped. âIâm justâ I donât know if thatâs the best idea withâ We have to go.â She turned on her heel and nearly sprinted in the other direction, apparently almost forgetting about Amelia, who stayed back with a smirk on her face.
âI know how this works.â I crossed my arms at the sixteen-year-old. âI give you something. You give me your momâs number. What will it take?â
She didnât even hesitate. âTwo backstage passes and a shout-out on your Instagram.â
âSteep.â I nodded and then held out my hand. âDeal, now give me her number.â
She let out a shriek while her mom finally realized that sheâd stayed back to talk to me.
Amelia fired off the number, and I typed it into my phone with a grin.
âHow old are you anyway?â Amelia just had to ask.
âOld as hell, just like your mom,â I said in a chipper voice and then, âthirty-six.â
She beamed. âMomâs thirty-nine, though she tells everyone sheâs still thirty-five.â
I glanced up at her mom, who was now holding her phone to her ear and glaring at us. âShe looks like sheâs in her twenties.â
âBelieve me, Iâm aware. Every single one of my guy friends is in love with her.â
âNo doubt,â I whispered under my breath. âIs she dating anyone?â
âOh, Iâm sorry I canât answer that question. You only asked for her number. Now you get to do the work, rockstar. It was lovely, by the way, doing business with you!â
âHey, thatâs extortion!â I pointed out.
She just shrugged and shoved her Pradas back up on her nose. âNo, thatâs good business.â
âWell, arenât you terrifying.â
She did a mock curtsy. âThank you.â
I shuddered. Iâd dealt with enough teenage girls to last a lifetime. âYour momâs waiting.â
âBronte,â she corrected me. âHer nameâs Bronte. Use it.â
I grinned. âWas that free?â
âNothing in this world is free, Drew Amhurst. Nothing.â With a giggle, she was walking back toward her mom, and I was smiling like an idiot after them.
Drew Amhurst.
They always said my full name.
Always.
I wasnât just Drew.
I was Drew Amhurst.
THE Drew Amhurst.
This was the first time in a long time I actually felt good about someone full-naming me. I waved at Amelia and watched in fascination as Bronte turned back and then jerked away.
Iâd only ever interacted with her when she was at one of Bradenâs concerts and hadnât even been aware that they were in Seaside at the moment. Did they live here now? Or were they just visiting Braden? And how the hell was I supposed to dig for information from him when heâd rather bury my still-breathing body than give it to me?
I started walking slowly back toward the studio, my grin still in place. Maybe I wouldnât leave for LA next week, after all.
Because something suddenly made me think that a little staycation was exactly what I needed.
