We had the same brown eyes from our father and red hair from our mother, although Rosalie’s tresses were paler and cropped at her shoulder. Our mother maintained that long hair was the mark of a wanton woman. I made sure when I left home to trim mine less often, and now my hair stretched toward the end of my spine.

Rosalie’s excited gaze shifted to the rock gods fidgeting in the wooden pew we shared as if they’d burst into flames any moment now.

I shared their anxiety.

I never thought I’d be here again.

After my mother made it clear last night that I wasn’t welcome in their home, I knew this would be my only chance to see Rosalie before leaving. We had a show in Seattle tomorrow night, and I didn’t want to force my boyfriends to cancel another performance just to stay where we weren’t wanted.

Amelia Fawn, catching her youngest daughter distracted, voiced her disapproval in a quiet tone, making Rosalie pout as she turned and faced the front. I swallowed the bitterness as my gaze shifted to the boy sitting next to her and his parents sitting on his other side while our parents flanked Rosalie’s right, keeping them together.

I would never forgive my parents for forcing a life on my sister that she didn’t want, and my parents would never forgive me for derailing the one she did.

“Go in peace,” Father Moore dismissed moments later, “glorifying the Lord by your life.”

I nudged Loren next to me, who’d fallen asleep, and he awoke with a loud snort that drew unwanted attention our way. I pushed air through my nose when I was recognized immediately. Now that Mass was over and they were done pretending to be God’s innocent children, the whispering and the stares began.

“What the hell is everyone staring at?” Loren griped.

It never took any of them long to notice much, which never seemed to work in my favor. I was still hoping to get out of this without having to come clean about my past. They knew I wasn’t innocent when they met me, but they had no idea just how much I had sinned.

“You’re not supposed to curse in a church, Lo,” Rich scolded.

Loren paid him no mind as he continued to look around. I stood up, smoothing down the brown, long-sleeved midi dress I carefully chose for the occasion, so he did too. Once the four of us were standing in the aisle, I waited near the narthex.

No way was I going near Father Moore or the chancel.

Standing here, I could almost feel the smear of anointing oil on my forehead while the pungent smell of olives never left me. Father Moore had used it to cure my “sickness” as I stood before distraught parents and the sons they’d brought with them for absolution.

My only regret had been not having the wisdom to give my body to a boy who deserved me, someone who would have stood by me as a friend or even just a hand to hold.

None of the nine who’d been there that night did.

As I waited for my parents and sister to reach us, I fought to push away the memories before my knees could collapse. I almost gave up and let the shame take hold when a large hand slipped into mine, tangling our fingers together.

I looked up and into the green gaze of Houston Morrow and knew he’d noticed the stares too.

Shrugging at the question in his eyes, I offered him a wry smile that wasn’t entirely a fa?ade. I was used to being the outcast. I’d lived that way for two years until I was able to escape when I turned eighteen.

And I never would have looked back if it hadn’t been for my baby sister.

She’d been too young at the time to understand what was happening to me, but it didn’t change that she never abandoned me.

The last of Father Moore’s flock who weren’t intending to stay now that Mass was over and continue their prayers finally passed us.

I knew the moment Houston spotted my family because his hand tightened around mine ever so slightly.

Jericho was next to recognize my sister, and I could hear his soft swear even after just moments ago berating Loren for doing the same.

The bassist was last to notice them. His gaze skirted over my mother and father dismissively before landing on my sister as she approached with a very swollen belly and a diamond ring adorning her left hand.

She was only thirteen.

Braxton’s sister looked barely old enough to know long division. How the hell could this kid be pregnant and married already? My gaze moved around the church, stuck playing duck, duck, goose, because I didn’t know where else to put it.

This was so fucking fucked.

Braxton should have warned us. I’d get in her ass later, but right now…

Rosalie’s cheery voice, despite the palpable tension around her, brought my attention right back to her. “Hi, I’m Braxton’s sister, Rosalie,” she introduced. She never lost that sweet smile on her face despite my feeling and probably looking like I needed a drink.

“Loren.” I forced a smile as I held out my hand, which she eagerly shook as she jumped up and down. She didn’t appear to be someone who’d spent the night in the hospital, though I still didn’t know the reason why.

“I can’t believe it’s really you! Braxton talks about you all the time, except she mostly calls you names I can’t repeat, or I’ll be grounded until I’m thirty.”

Jesus.

I didn’t know how much more I could take of this shit. I couldn’t believe I’d ever mistaken Braxton for innocent when her sister really took the cake. Thankfully, she moved on to Houston, who was better at hiding his chaotic thoughts.

Rosalie talked his ear off about her going into labor early—the reason for her short hospital stay and our visit—and was too excited to notice his short responses. Meanwhile, I studied Braxton’s parents, who had pulled her aside. Braxton was the spitting image of her mother, a stone-cold fox even with her mouth’s rigid set and the added years. I knew I had the coldness right, at least as I witnessed the way Mrs. Fawn regarded her own daughter.

I recognized that look a mile away.

It was the same disdain my father had shown me many times, and my mother was too weak to tell him any different.

When it looked like they started to argue, I made up my mind to come to Braxton’s rescue when she caught my gaze at that exact moment and subtly shook her head.

Blowing out air, I forced myself to stay put as I shifted my attention to the trio hovering near Rosalie. I dismissed the older couple, and I narrowed my eyes on the pimple-faced shit standing next to them. I knew he was the one responsible for knocking up baby sis. His blond hair covered his eyes as he stood there slouched in black slacks and a tie like he was bored out of his mind and uninterested in anything—including his new wife.

When he noticed me staring, he hesitated for only a moment or two before inching away from his parents.

“I’m Pete,” he said excitedly as if I gave a shit. “I’m a huge fan, man.”

As I pulled a stick of gum from my pocket, unwrapped it, and slipped the stick between my lips, I did some soul searching and reminded myself that he was just a kid too. I seriously doubted the marriage and baby carriage were his doing any more than Rosalie’s.

I knew what had been his bright idea, though.

“Not of wrapping up, apparently.”

Stupid shit frowned before realizing what I meant. He looked a little older than Rosalie, maybe a year or two, so I knew who was the predator and who had been the prey.

It was always the same shit, just a different generation.

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, his gaze turning shifty as he chuckled nervously. “It’s cool though because Rosalie and I…um…oh, we’re in love. Hey, do you think I could get an autograph?”

I kept my expression blank as I stared at him. I couldn’t believe Braxton’s parents allowed a precious thing like Rosalie to marry someone who sounded like he ate paint chips for an afterschool snack.

I turned to Rich, who’d been watching and listening the entire time. Rosalie was still talking Houston’s ear off, so she hadn’t gotten to him yet. Now that she wasn’t fangirling anymore, it sounded like she was ripping him a new one for being mean to her big sister. I laughed to myself at the fire in her already before getting pissed all over again.

What a waste.

“I’ll be outside,” I told Jericho, ignoring Peter the Skeeter’s request for an autograph. One of the others could hook him up.

I was outside for maybe ten minutes before Braxton found me. Houston and Rich were right behind her, and the three of us watched her stare off in the distance at nothing in particular before turning to us. “Can we go now?”

I was nodding before I could even form words. “Hell yeah.”

We started for the rental before the sound of Rosalie’s voice stopped Braxton in her tracks. I almost groaned out loud when she turned around. I needed to get her the hell out of here and sooner rather than later. If I could get away with it, I’d take baby sis with me too.