Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,58

at the end of the hall and stepped into the circus that I’d heard from upstairs.

I smiled when I took in the mayhem that was going down in the main rooms.

At the gathering of family and friends. Old faces and new. People coming together to become something important to the other.

It was funny because if I told someone I was spending the summer in a mansion with a bunch of musicians, this was probably not the scene they would be expecting.

They’d be looking for a crew of wrung-out bad boys, passed out, face down in their own puke and still clinging to a bottle of Jack.

Most likely buck and tangled with a groupie or two.

At least that was a scene I’d witnessed plenty of times throughout the years, and I was getting the sense that might be the case when the rest of my brother’s band, A Riot of Roses, arrived next week.

But here and now?

With Carolina George taking up the space?

Not so much.

Leif was at the island, chopping onions and tomatoes, while Mia and Violet were at the counter near the stove cracking eggs into a big bowl for omelets.

A swarm of children buzzed at their feet, taking the island like a racetrack, sliding on their socks around the corners on the marble floors.

“You can’t get me!” Greyson had his hands thrown in the air as he blew around his daddy’s legs.

Greyson was Leif and Mia’s middle son. A handful. Adorable as could be. Dark hair and grins and sweetness for miles.

“Whoa there, little bud,” Leif called as the toddler skidded around his legs. “You better watch yourself or you’re gonna fall on your noggin.”

Case in point about these rockstars?

Noggin.

I hadn’t known Leif all that long, but I’d heard it said the hardened man had gone soft.

From where I stood at the entryway to the kitchen, affection bloomed. A rush of energy wrapping me in their comfort. This overwhelming feeling pulsing and crashing.

Love.

Devotion.

Loyalty.

I could feel each riding the air in the room.

So full.

So bright.

“I not gonna go crackin’ up my noggin, Daddy-O. I gotsta get away from Brendon because he’s so, so, so big.”

Greyson stopped long enough to jump as high as his three-year-old legs could get him each time he emphasized how big Brendon was, as if he were aspiring to be just as tall.

The most adorable part?

Watching Brendon who was all tussled black hair and teenage swagger, playing with his little cousin.

Brendon was Lyrik West’s son. Mia, who’d gotten married to Leif a couple years ago, was Lyrik’s sister.

That made Brendon their nephew. So, the kid was not only Sunder royalty, he was now a part of the Carolina George family.

The families of those two bands merging together.

So easily becoming one.

“You’s fast!” Greyson pointed a finger at Brendon from over the island before the little thing cracked a grin. “But not fasts enough.”

“Oh yeah, little man? I think you’re just askin’ for it,” Brendon taunted, puffing out his chest before he took two stomping steps to the left.

Greyson shot into action, his squeal echoing across the floors as he darted around the island with Brendon chasing after him. Except Brendon slowed to give Greyson a head start.

So sweet.

Greyson’s big sister, Penny, stretched out her hand. “Come on, Greyson, don’t let him get you!”

Greyson grabbed her hand, and Kallie took his other.

Kallie was Sebastian and Shea Stone’s daughter. Penny’s best friend. The two young teenagers were inseparable, and Kallie had been here most every day since we’d arrived. They were always sharing secret giggles and sweet, hushed conversations.

Penny, Kallie, and Greyson went skidding around the island with Brendon hot on their heels.

“Holy camoly, you alls are nothin’ but hooligans!” Daisy piped up. Violet and Richard’s little girl was all black-hair and pigtails.

So cute and wild and always with something to say.

She stood on a step stool next to her mama, helping to prepare breakfast. “Dontcha know you are supposed to take the roughhousin’ outside where it belongs?”

Violet grinned, sheer joy, the profile of her protruding belly becoming more apparent when she shifted to look at her daughter. “Well, aren’t you a little miss bossy pants.” She tugged at one of Daisy’s black pigtails.

Daisy shrugged. “Well, someone arounds here has to do the dirty works, and my papa isn’t here to do it.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Violet turned to get something out of the refrigerator. A warm smile covered her entire face when she saw me standing there on the fray.

“Hey, you, good mornin’,” she said. “You’re awake.