Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,118
the eighteen months he’d initially thought his father-in-law would be serving.
I didn’t follow up on Nick’s sisters, didn’t tune in for the endless news coverage on them, because I honestly didn’t care. Nick was happy and healthy, talked to his therapist regularly, and the consensus, everywhere, was that he had come through the darkness and was now standing squarely in the light. I could not have been prouder, so when I got a call from Brent right before Thanksgiving, as I was finishing up at my volunteer job at a drug rehabilitation center, I was surprised.
“Is Conner all right?” I asked first, because Conner Fox was one month clean and sober, and as a treat, had gone to meet Nick and Stig as their guest for two shows before he headed back to the house to take up residence in our guest bedroom. He had a sobriety coach with him, who I’d handpicked. Conner had sung backup on Nick’s record as well, and Stig had offered him a job as a backup singer in his band when he felt he was ready. Conner had been thrilled. He needed a safety net when he left us, somewhere other than his childhood home, and Stig and his wife, and his band, were happy to give that to him.
“Yeah, Conner’s fine,” he said quickly, “but—”
“Flint’s not gambling again?”
“No, he’s—”
“Oh shit, did Meira go into labor?”
“No, Loc, she’s only seven months—”
“Did Diego get hurt or—”
“Diego is fine!”
“And you’re—”
“Ohmygod, can you shut the hell up?” he yelled at me.
If he’d been there, I would have glared him to death. “What the hell do you want, then?”
He huffed out a breath. “It turns out that this month away from you has not been good for Nick.”
I jolted. “No, no, no, he’s not—”
“No,” he said calmly, softly, “he’s being amazing. He’s the rock keeping the peace between some artistic, very opinionated people, and there’s something about his voice lately that is simply incandescent. I mean, really, Loc, he’s just luminous, and people are in awe of his voice, and the reviews for this tour are beyond belief.”
“Then what? I don’t get it.”
“I sent you a video from last night.”
“Okay, but he’ll be home in, like, a week, before Thanksgiving.”
“Yes,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “But I don’t think these long separations are working for him. I mean, you got married and away he went.”
“Yeah, but we agreed that—”
“Just do me a favor and look at the video, all right? Text me after.”
He hung up, and I went to the kitchen and opened my laptop so I could eat the dinner Marisol had left me and watch Nick sing while I ate.
The music was beautiful, and Brent was right, my husband sounded amazing. I had no doubt that as soon as his record hit the airwaves, the Grammy would be his.
But even though the sound was there, his voice powerful and strong, soulful and sexy, his whole demeanor was off. He wasn’t animated like he’d been before he left. He looked flat, empty, and almost lifeless. It appeared as though he’d been touring for months instead of weeks. The smile he was giving people was forced, strained, and his eyes were vacant. You had to know Nick to see it. To his fans he was engaged, but to Brent, something was terribly wrong, and I was thankful that he had become the assistant Nick truly needed.
I texted Brent and asked where they would be the following night. They were playing a free venue at Musical Legends Park until midnight, so I told him I would get a plane ticket, and he said for me to just get to the airport. The plane would be waiting for me.
The band was booked into the JW Marriott, New Orleans, on Canal Street, but Brent sent Nick down the street and around the corner to the Hotel Monteleone, where I was staying. I called Nick when Brent texted that he was on his way over.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, taking a quick breath. “How are you, baby?”
“I’m good, how are you?”
“Well, I would be better if Brent hadn’t fucked up the reservation and put me in a different hotel than Stig and Conner and everyone else. I mean, I was going to ask them if they had another suite, but Brent hustled me out the door so fast that people would have noticed if I made a scene, you know?”
“And that’s not you, the scene part.”
“Not anymore,” he agreed, chuckling. “At least I don’t have to go stand in line at the check-in desk and get the key. Brent already had it, so I’m going up the elevator now.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Hotel Monteleone.”
“I heard it’s haunted, so that could be cool.”
“Aren’t all the older hotels in New Orleans haunted?”
“Good point,” I teased him.
He was quiet a moment.
“Nick?”
“Sorry, I just miss you and—more than I ever thought I would, and I just can’t wait to get home.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, like…” He trailed off, and I heard him inhale. “Anyway, I think when I told you in Kentucky that I wanted us to spend some time being an us, more than two weeks would have been good.”
“Like a month.”
“Or, you know, a year maybe.”
I snorted, and he exhaled and laughed as I heard the key in the door.
“I miss you too, honey,” I said and hung up.
“Loc,” I heard him say from the other side of the door, and the lost sound in his voice, almost bereft, made my heart hurt.
Leaving the door’s security latch hooked, cracking it open only as far as it would allow, I glared out at him. “Hey, buddy, I think you have the wrong room.”
The way his breath caught and his face lit up, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped, there was no question that to Nick Madison, I was everything.
And I felt exactly the same way about him.
“Sir?” I teased, loving the way he sighed, watching the tension in him fall away.
“Let me in,” he demanded, and his voice cracked with yearning.
I grinned at him, arching an eyebrow. “You want in?”
His response, the full-body shudder, made me chuckle. “Oh yes, please, I want in more than anything in the whole wide world.”
“You’re certainly easy to please.”
“No, I’m not. Not at all,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing to slits. “But my husband is my home, and as long as he’s around me, with me, I’m good.”
An old song filtered through my mind. “You love him?”
“More than—” He choked and swallowed hard. “There are no words. I have to sing it to you so you understand, so you can feel it.”
“Sounds like a good song.”
“It’s the best one,” he whispered. “Let me in and I’ll sing it to you.”
Closing the door, I flipped the lock, opened the door, and held out my arms. “Hi, honey, welcome home.”
I had never been held so tight.
A Note From the Author
Thank you so much for reading Fix It Up. I hope you enjoyed Locryn and Nick, and the two of them realizing that what they needed was right in front of them all along. If you did, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. It would help so much with the book’s visibility. The fourth book, The Fix Is In, Shaw’s book, will be out this coming spring and I can’t wait for you to fall in love with him.
Want to stay up-to-date on my release? Join the mob!
Thank you so much for joining me for my continuing Torus series, I hope to see you soon!
Also by Mary Calmes
By Mary Calmes
WARDERS
His Hearth (Warders #1)
Tooth & Nail (Warders #2)
Heart In Hand (Warders #3)
Sinnerman (Warders #4)
Nexus (Warders #5)
L’ANGE
Old Loyalty, New Love
Fighting Instinct
Chosen Pride
HOUSE OF MAEDOC
His Consort
His Prince
TORUS INTERCESSION
No Quick Fix (Book One)
In A Fix (Book Two)
More Than Life
Stand In Place
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.comAcrobat
Again
Any Closer
Floodgates
Frog
The Guardian
Heart of the Race
Ice Around the Edges
Judgment
Just Desserts
Kairos
Lay It Down
Mine
Romanus * Chevalier
The Servant
Steamroller
Still
Three Fates
What Can Be
Where You Lead
You Never Know
CHANGE OF HEART
Change of Heart
Trusted Bond
Honored Vow
Crucible of Fate
Forging the Future
THE VAULT
A Day Makes
Late In The Day
MANGROVE STORIES
Blue Days
Quiet Nights
Sultry Sunset
Easy Evenings
Sleeping ‘til Sunrise
MARSHALS
All Kinds of Tied Down
Fit To Be Tied
Tied Up In Knots
Twisted and Tied
A MATTER OF TIME
A Matter of Time Vol.1
A Matter of Time Vol. 2
Bulletproof
But For You
Parting Shot
Piece of Cake
TIMING
Timing
After the Sunset
When the Dust Settles
About the Author
Mary Calmes believes in romance, happily ever afters, and the faith it takes for her characters to get there. She bleeds coffee, thinks chocolate should be its own food group, and currently lives in Kentucky with a five-pound furry ninja that protects her from baby birds, spiders and the neighbor’s dogs. To stay up to date on her ponderings and pandemonium (as well as the adventures of the ninja) follow her on Twitter Facebook, Instagram and subscribe to her newsletter.