Under The Same Sky

By Tamsyn Bester

It's been nine years since I last saw him, and now he's back in town.

Thorin Decker.

Front man of Eighteendust, one of the world's most famous rock bands.

But before his rise to fame, he was the boy I fell in love with, and the boy who broke my heart.

I never expected to see him again, but in a cruel twist of fate, we've been tied together in a way neither of us saw coming. If I thought he would be the same boy who left all those years ago, I was dead wrong.

But he's not the only one who's changed.

He'll soon realize the girl he both broke, and saved, no longer exists.

I might have moved on with my life, and let go of our past, but if he thinks a second chance is in the cards, he's going to have to prove that he's worth the risk.

And if he is, will I be willing to take it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tamsyn Bester
• Release date: Jun 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393439394

Book preview

Chapter One

Reese

I growl in frustration as the woman on the phone tells me for the millionth time that I can’t speak to Thorin. I don’t know how you got this number, but we don’t allow fans or groupies to speak to any of the band members, she says haughtily. I have no clue who she is, but by the sounds of it she’s probably the band’s assistant. God. My week can’t get any worse. Between memorial service arrangements, daily visits to the hospital and dealing with everything else, I’m strung out, physically and emotionally. It’s been the longest, and hardest, five days I’ve ever had to endure. I pinch the bridge of my nose, and gather whatever semblance of patience I have left. It’s not much.

Listen, I have some very important news for Thorin, if you could please let me—

Sorry, she cuts me off, but as I said, we don’t allow fans—

I’m not a fucking fan! I snap, the shreds of my patience dissipating. Get Thorin and tell him Reese Pie is on the phone, please. This has to do with his brother and sister-in-law, and I need to talk to him. Now.

My throat burns, my eyes begin to water, and if I wasn’t already on the verge of an emotional meltdown five minutes ago, I sure as hell am now.

If you can prove to me you’re not a fan—

For Christ’s sake. His middle name is Jude, after his grandfather, and that scar above his eyebrow? He got that after helping me when I was too scared to climb down from a tree on his dad’s ranch. He has a birthmark behind his ear in the shape of what looks like a moon, and—

All public information, she replies coolly. Total bullshit. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, Reese Pie," she spits out Thorin’s old nickname for me as if she hates it almost as much as I do,"the band is about to come off stage, and I have work to do." Before I can get another word in edgewise, the call is disconnected and I’m left looking at the phone as if it’s the physical embodiment of the bitch I just spoke to.

Damnit.

I think Thorin and his band are somewhere in the United States—I never bothered to check their tour schedule—and after looking through some of Ryan’s things in his office, I finally found a contact number. I’d lost contact with Thorin years ago—nine, to be exact—not that I want to take that particular trip down memory lane right now, but I know Ryan spoke to him as often as he could. I only know it’s the last show on their tour because Ryan wrote it down, and after this, only God knows where Thorin will go. He won’t come home—I cut that thought short because he has to come home. His brother is dead, and so is his sister-in-law, and I’ve put the memorial service plans on hold in the hopes of reaching Thorin to let him know and give him time to get here.

Keep it together, I tell myself. Just until after the service.

Except it won’t be that easy because my life has blown up, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. My two best friends—who took me in, and made me part of their family—died a week ago in a sick, and ugly twist of fate, and the weight of it all lays heavily on my chest. I’ve kept it together for the most part, because I have someone else depending on me now, but I’m also scared out of my mind, and there’s no one here to guide me.

Fuck, I mutter, staring down at the granite kitchen top. I shut my eyes, and try with every fibre of my being to breathe, and pull myself towards myself. I check the clock, and realize I have to get to the hospital. I grab the keys to my truck, make sure the car seat is secure in the backseat and take off down the gravel road towards town. Horseshoe Bay is a small town in the middle-of-nowhere, hill country, Texas. I was born and raised here until I got the hell out of dodge and went to Auburn University, Alabama. Not that my parents cared. I’d absolved them of any responsibility they had toward me, and decided the only way I was going to make it was on my own. By the time I graduated from Auburn, though, my parents had sold their home without a word, and left me homeless. Not that I expected anything less. That’s when Melissa and Ryan took me in, and I’ve been living with them on Ryan’s ranch for the past five years. He even built me a small house at the back so that I could have my own place, and later expanded it for me when I expanded my business. I have my own fully equipped gym, a small studio space for photoshoots, an office, and three bedrooms, all with en-suite bathrooms. It’s too big a place for just me, but that was Ryan. A heart bigger than Texas. Then again, we’d known each other since we were kids, and I always knew how much he cared about his friends and family. I wipe away a stray tear as I pass through the small town, past the church where him and Melissa got married in straight out of college, past the town square, past the high school. This place holds so many memories, and despite all the bad ones, it’s the only place I want to be. I stop in front of the hospital, put my truck in park, and stare at the entrance. Of all the things I’m scared of, this scares me the most. But, if Melissa and Ryan trusted me enough to do it, then I’d give it everything I’ve got. For them. And their son.

The nurses at reception greet me, their eyes filled with the same sympathy they’ve been throwing my way all week, but I smile weakly, and head up to the maternity floor. The elderly African-American matron, Imani, spots me, and in spite of her gentle smile, her gaze is also filled with sympathy. As much as I appreciate the support, I’m so tired of being looked at that way. I hate it when people feel sorry for me, a heavy scar left behind from high school. Hi, Reese. She gives me a hug, and I didn’t know how much I need it until her arms are around me. It’s the most human contact I’ve had since contacting Ryan and Melissa’s close friends, and Ryan’s family to give them the worst news imaginable, and being held feels good. Comforting. It’s a hug that says, you can do this. When I pull away, I wipe my face again, probably looking as haggard as I feel. Is he ready? I ask, the tremor in my voice unmistakable. I can’t hide how I feel, but Imani just smiles and starts walking toward the nursery. Almost, they’re just changing his diaper and getting him dressed.

I stop outside the door, and Imani looks at me with understanding. Do you need a minute, sweetheart? I swallow the ball of emotion lodged in my throat, and give her a nod. She opens an office door, and lets me in. Take all the time you need, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit.

The click of the door being shut rings out loud in my ears, and without warning, everything inside me comes out. I cover my mouth to stifle the sob coming from deep within my chest, but it’s no use. I’m not ready for this, for any of it. But life happened, and now I have no choice. My two best friends are gone, I can’t reach Thorin, and with no one left to call, I let it all out until I’m wrung dry. As hard as I try, my mind won’t stop going back, back to the night it all changed, back to the night I lost everything that really, and truly mattered to me.

One week earlier

Ryan’s brows furrow as he looks at Melissa. Babe, I can cancel if you need me to. It’s just poker night with the guys. Melissa rolls her eyes, and keeps her head on my lap. If you don’t get out of my face, I’m going to punch you, Ryan Jason Decker. You’ve been stuck in your office all week, then looking after me at night, and you need a break. Reese will stay with me, and besides, we still have six weeks before this kid gets here. She rubs her belly affectionately. We’ll be fine, I promise.

Ryan glances at me. You’ll call if you need me to come home?

I will, Ry. Promise. Miss Cranky Pants and I are just going to relax, watch a movie, and I’ll make sure she takes her medication like a good little girl.

Melissa sticks her tongue out at me. I’m not cranky. Total lie, but I don’t blame her. She’s seven-and-a-half months pregnant and got sick a few days ago. She’s uncomfortable more often than not, and way past ready to have her baby. Ryan gives us both one last look, his body tense. He doesn’t like leaving Melissa, but she’s right. The guy could use a break. Between running a fully staffed horse ranch, and taking care of Melissa at night, he’s run himself ragged. He has circles beneath his eyes, and his upper body is tense, his muscles taut beneath his t-shirt. He’s a big guy, tall and muscular, with a take-no-shit attitude, but when it comes to his wife? He goes soft around the edges, and tends to her every whim. His purpose in life is to make Melissa happy, and I’ll never forget the look on his face when she told him she was pregnant. He looked like a kid who got his first bicycle on Christmas morning. The love they have for each other is something people search for their entire lives and rarely find. But Ryan and Melissa found it, and sometimes it’s hard not to envy them. But I love Ryan like a big brother, because that’s what he’s been to me. And when I met Melissa? I knew we’d be friends for the rest of our lives. I’ll stay with her until you get back, I tell Ryan, giving him a reassuring smile. I’ll call if we need you.

He hesitates, but when Melissa lobs a pillow across the living room and hits him square in the face, he relaxes, chuckles, and shakes his head before grabbing his keys and heading out.

Silly man, Melissa mutters as soon as the door shuts. Worries too much.

I pull my fingers through her long, brown hair, and hear her sigh. He just loves you, I reply. And it probably drives him crazy seeing you like this knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

Full of shit is what he is, and it’s his damn fault, anyway. Him and his super-sperm. Last I checked, it takes two people to make a baby, but I’m not about to bring that up right now. I shake my head, and laugh. Lord, I hope your kid is just like you, boy or girl, so you can get a dose of your own medicine.

Melissa decided early on she didn’t want to know the sex of their baby until he or she was born, much to Ryan’s disgruntlement, but like with everything else, he gave in to what she wanted. Luckily, the baby didn’t show us anything during the scans anyway, but who knows, maybe at the next one we’ll get an accidental peak and Ryan would be put out of his misery. I, on the other hand, don’t care what sex the baby is, as long as my godchild is healthy. I look down, and notice that Melissa has drifted off. Just as well, she needs her sleep. With a yawn, I lean my head back on the sofa. I have a mile-long to-do list for work, but I’d deal with it tomorrow. Being my own boss definitely has it’s advantages, but I’m a workaholic by nature, and with all my social media accounts, I always have a ton of emails and messages to respond to. If all else fails, I’ll just ask my best friend, and assistant, Mya, to help. She’s due for a visit soon, anyway. Ever since Ryan expanded my cottage to include a fully equipped gym, I’ve been able to grow my lifestyle blog, and I’m in the process of designing my own fitness clothing brand, along with an app I’ve spent months working on. It wasn’t what I envisioned for my own future, but my perspective on life changed when I was seventeen, and in the aftermath of one bad decision, I found my purpose. Life is funny that way, I guess. I startle awake when Melissa mewls, and clutches her belly.

Mel, are you okay?

She mewls again and then cries out. Reese, something’s wrong. She sits up slowly, and when I help her stand, I notice the blood on her sweats. Her face goes pale, and she looks at me with panic in her eyes.

Stay calm, I’ll grab my keys and we’ll head straight to the hospital, okay?

She bends over again, and visibly starts crying. It’s enough to send my own panic skyrocketing, but I stay calm, grab my keys and get Melissa to my truck.

It’s going to be okay, I tell her. Just hang in there.

I’m driving through town a few minutes later, trying to reach Ryan. It just keeps ringing, and by the time I get to the hospital, all my focus zeroes in on Melissa. I call a nurse, and before I can blink, they’re wheeling her in. I run beside her bed while they page her OB/GYN, and she squeezes my hand. Have you called Ryan?

As if he knew we were talking about him, my phone rings and I release an audible sigh of relief when I see it’s him. Hey, Reese, sorry I missed your call—

I cut him off with, You need to get to the hospital, Ryan. Mel’s bleeding, and the OB/GYN is on her way.

I’m leaving now. I hear some shuffling in the background, a few mumbles. Do they know what’s wrong?

No, but I need you to get here, Ry.

I’ll be there in a few. Look after my girl until I get there.

The line goes dead, and I pocket my phone as we race down the hallway.

He’s on his way, I tell Melissa, squeezing her sweaty hand.

Please don’t leave me until he gets here, she pleads.

I squeeze her hand tighter. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to be by your side the entire time.

And if anything happens to me, promise me you’ll help Ryan. Please, Reese. I don’t like thinking about what could happen but I nod anyway, if only to appease some of her distress. The next few minutes are a blur of activity. We’re ushered into an operating room, doctors and nurses rush around, I hear talk about an emergency c-section, and then I’m being put in scrubs, and Melissa is being prepped. It’s not standard procedure for me to be in here with her, but since Ryan isn’t here yet, I refuse to leave. Her hand reaches for mine the moment they slip an oxygen mask over her face, her face wet with tears, and I try my damndest to put on a brave face. I want to tell her everything’s okay, but I’ve never lied to her before and I won’t start now, regardless of the circumstances. And she’s not oblivious to the chaos around her, either. Her OB/GYN rushes in, dressed and rearing to go. Melissa’s hand tightens, her eyes frantic, and then we hear it. The cry of a baby. That sweet wail has me crying. Until I feel Melissa’s hand loosen from around mind and drop to the side, her eyes closed. The machines go crazy, nurses rush between her and the baby, and then I’m being shoved out the door without any indication as to what just happened. I pace the hallway, try calling Ryan—he should have been here by now—and it goes straight to voicemail. A second later, my phone is ringing, and I frown down at the unknown number. I almost don’t answer, and when I do, I wish I hadn’t.

Hello, this is Reese.

Miss. Hayes, my name is David, I’m an EMT. There’s been an accident.

My blood goes cold. Okay…

You’re listed as an emergency contact. It’s about a Ryan Decker. We tried calling his wife first—

She’s in the hospital, I tell him, trying to listen to him above the sound of my heart beating in my ears. Is Ryan okay?

Instead of answering my question, he asks, Are you at the hospital already?

Yes. My hand trembles, along with my voice.

I’m afraid to inform you Mr. Decker was in an accident… The following seconds fuse together.

Hit by a drunk driver.

Died on impact.

Can you come down to the morgue?

Miss. Hayes? Are you still there?

Yes. I don’t recognize my own voice, it’s foreign to my own ears. I’ll be there now. I end the call, but don’t move, not until a nurse comes out of the operating theatre, her scrubs covered in blood. So much damn blood.

Is she okay? What about the baby? I try to shove past her, but she stops me.

The baby’s fine, healthy little boy, but we’ve put him in an incubator because he’s premature. She’s saying he’s healthy, but why isn’t she smiling?

And Melissa? Can I see her?

The nurse looks back at the theatre doors and then back at me. There were a few complications. Unfortunately, Mrs. Decker suffered a placental abruption, and hemorrhaged. She lost too much blood, and we couldn’t save her.

We couldn’t save her.

We couldn’t save her.

We couldn’t save her.

I collapse to the ground, let out a strangled sound, and lose it, struggling to breath, struggling to think, struggling to make sense of this chaos.

Ryan and Melissa are both gone. What kind of hell is this?

And neither of them had the chance to meet their son. God, they wanted to meet their baby before giving him or her a name, and now…

The nurse helps me stand, walks me to a chair, and grabs me some water. When I eventually calm down—it takes a while—I walk down to the morgue, confirm Ryan’s identity, say goodbye, and then Melissa’s beside him. I say goodbye to her too, and it feels like I’ve been split in two. No one ushers me out the morgue, no one asks me if I’m okay, no one asks me if they can call family on my behalf. Mentally, I know there are a few people I should call. Ryan’s mom, Maggie, Thorin, some of our friends in town. No family for Melissa though, we were her family. Her parents died when she was in her senior year of high school, and she was an only child, and Ryan and Thorin’s dad, Eli, passed away three years ago. Their mom lives in Florida with her sister now.

Shit.

I need to call her.

And then I have to call Thorin.

---

A knock on the door startles me, and I look up. Imani’s features soften. He’s ready for you. He doesn’t even have a name. But as of two days ago, after meeting with Child Protective Services, I’m the guardian of a five day old little boy, and right now, I’m all he has. Technically, Thorin could be his guardian now too, since he’s the baby’s godfather, but that’s something I’ll have to deal with when I see him. I pick up the car seat I brought with me, along with the diaper bag, and follow Imani, my heart in my throat. The little man is drinking half an ounce of milk right now which is good, and when he starts wanting more, you’ll know, she tells me, and I file the information away like I have everything else. And it seems the only time he cries is when he’s hungry, or when his diaper needs to be changed. He’s an easy baby, so I doubt you’ll have much trouble with him.

I’ve been here every day this week, and luckily he was only in the incubator for two days. Because he was premature, they had him under a UV light to increase blood flow, and prevent him from getting jaundice. Besides that, Imani is right, he is an easy baby.

Damnit, he needs a name.

After I place everything next to a sofa in the nursery, Imani stops next to one of those small bassinets and brings my godson to me. She delicately places him in my arms, and the moment I reach to touch his face, my finger is in his hand. This isn’t right, Melissa and Ryan should be the ones doing this. But they’re not here, and they both entrusted their baby’s life to me, should anything ever happen to them. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Or like this. Or ever for that matter because Ryan and Melissa were supposed to live until they were old and gray, surrounded by their grandchildren.

Hi, little man, I coo, trying to keep my voice gentle and soothing. I finally get to take you home today. He gazes up at me, and all I see is Melissa’s dark hair, her pouty little lips, and shocking blue eyes, like Thorin’s. I know they’ll change, hopefully to either green like Ryan’s, or brown like Mel’s. He’s the perfect mix of both of them, and it only makes the crack in my heart widen, the wound yawning like a living, breathing thing inside me. Seconds later, he’s asleep, and stays that way when I place him in the carrier. Imani hugs me one more time.

Reese, I can only imagine what you’re going through right now, but you’ll be just fine. We’re all in shock, Melissa and Ryan will both be dearly missed. Her eyes mist over, and she sniffles before handing me a piece of paper with a number on it. I don’t usually do this, but here’s my personal number. I want you to call me if you have any questions or need anything at all, day or night. I’ll see you at the memorial service.

Thank you. For everything. I start for the elevators, and look down. Time to go home.

Chapter Two

Thorin

Thank you, New York! I yell into the mic, the crowd going wild. We want to thank y’all for supporting us, for buying the new album, and for being here tonight. We’ve had a great tour, and we have all of you to thank for that. The guys step forward, and another round of yells and screams float up and around Madison Square Garden. God, being back on home ground feels good. Thank you, and goodnight. We wave, and quickly make our way off stage, sweaty and on a high.

Shit, Benji, our back-up guitarist, sighs, shaking out his mane of black hair. That was insane!

Best show on the tour, man, Fletch, our drummer, replies, still bouncing on his feet. He’s the first to whip off his shirt, and hell if I’m not tempted to do the same. I’m hot as fuck after being under those damn lights for so long, but it was worth it. Every single second.

Totally killed it. This comes from our bass guitarist, Carson. He pulls his fingers through his blonde hair, and high-fives Fletch. That crowd was intense.

Guys. Our manager, Alex, approaches, a broad grin on his face. You made your last show your best one to-date.

Thanks, Dad, Fletch teases, bumping fists with Alex. He might look like a stiff in his Armani suit, but he’s a good friend, and a fucking brilliant manager. Strict when he needs to be, but he’s never done anything but look out for us, even when we’ve disagreed with him. You guys going to party tonight? I need to know if I must get extra security for the rooms.

Fuck yeah! Benji yells. I need to get me some hot pussy!

I shake my head, and laugh. You’re an ass.

He’s right though, Carson says. I need to get laid before I fucking explode.

You’d never think we are in our mid-twenties with the way we behave after a show. It’s more like a bunch of high school gnats who always