Madden
I shoot my dad a text as soon as I turn off the engine, my SUV pulling up right next to the Chevy in the reserved parking spaces outside of the bar in the town square.
If all was to go as was planned before we first pulled up at Kaleb’s parents’ ranch, we were supposed to be getting back on the road this weekend – which is now also the weekend of Kitty’s barn competition. I haven’t managed to see my dad since I got back in Phoenix Falls and, no matter how uncomfortable being back at our old house makes me feel, I know that I’ve got to make the visit.
It’s not as if we don’t get along. My dad’s a suffer-in-silence tough guy and he helped shape me into sterner stuff, but I know that once I step foot in that house all of those feelings, all those memories of my mom, all of the insecurities about holding onto what I love and then having it taken away… they’ll all come flooding back.
My fingers work the screen. I let him know that I’m thinking of dropping by the house tomorrow morning before his shift starts up at the county police dept, and then I slip my phone back into my pocket, knowing that he checks his cell about once every century so I’ll be here all night if I try waiting for a reply.
Then I look out to my left through the driver’s side window, straight into Kaleb’s passenger side.
Sensing my eyes, Kitty glances through the window back at me. Gives me a scowly once-over. Then turns her face back to the windshield.
After Kaleb’s bollocking about being AWOL he’s had his tail between his legs, and from the goodness of his heart he told Kitty to ride with him in the Chevy. I couldn’t exactly stop him without prematurely unveiling my fucking affair with his sister so instead I kept my mouth shut tight and then tailed his car like a cop, all the way from the ranch to the lot.
I hear Kaleb’s car die down as he shuts off the engine and then I get out of my door just as he gets out of his, reaching back inside so that I can pull out my guitar case.
Kitty remains in her seat, a secret war raging behind her eyes.
“You know, I’m kind of stoked to see the guys,” Kaleb says, jerking his chin to the car next to mine, the vehicle belonging to our bassist. “It’s been a fucking minute.”
I nod even though I couldn’t care less. The band’s group chat aside, I haven’t texted the guys at all, and although it’ll be fun to play this gig in town, I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of getting back to touring – or, more specifically, leaving Kitty.
I lock up the Jeep whilst Kaleb dips back into the Chevy, asking Kitty to move her ass.
I crack my neck from side to side, less than happy with his tone.
When I turn back to face him he gives me an irritated shrug, gesturing to Kitty’s unmoved ass.
I bite back a smirk and hold out a hand, palm up.
“You go on and set up the stuff backstage, I’ll lock up,” I say, like I’m doing him a favour.
He tosses me the keys with no hesitation and heads to the bar’s side door without a second glance.
I wait until he’s inside before I pull open Kitty’s door.
Our cars are big, broad, and submerged in darkness thanks to the lack of invasive street lighting. The space between the Wrangler and the Chevy, especially with Kitty’s door wide open, is as private as a confessional.
I lean back against the side of my door, legs outstretched as I wait for her to get out. She’s got her cowgirl boots on her feet, her knees under her chin, and her two braids from earlier dangling down over her chest. She’s wearing a miniscule dungaree dress that I’ve never seen her in before and there’s a baby pink handkerchief tied around her neck, a cutesy veil to inconspicuously hide the marks there.
I drum my fingers on the top of her open door. She looks away in the opposite direction.
“Silent treatment?” I ask, a little incredulous.
She’s really gonna act like I didn’t have my tongue between her legs not two hours ago?
Sensing that she’s still embarrassed about what happened with her dad, I crouch down between the cars and smooth my palm behind her knee. I’m never gonna get over how soft her skin is. I caress my hands against her soothingly, trying to placate her like a gentleman.
“It’s for the best that he knows,” I say, hoping to God that I’m not reinvigorating her fury. “All we need now is for the right moment to tell Kaleb, and then-”
“What’s the point?” she asks suddenly. “You’re going to be gone in a few days.”
I sigh. Shit. So that’s what this is about.
“I hate goodbyes,” she adds quietly, and a knife twists in my chest. “Princess, it doesn’t have to be goodbye-”
She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “Yes it does, rockstar, that’s how it is if you’re on the road.”
I press my forehead into the side of her thigh as I soak in the fact that she obviously wants our secret situation to continue, to grow.
If that’s what she wants then like hell am I going to be the one to end it.
I lift my head, looking up at her from my position on the blacktop, and I watch as she rubs her palms flat over her knees.
My eyes trail down her braid and I bite at my lip-ring, wanting another taste of her so badly that my abs physically hurt.
“Look at me, baby,” I whisper, ducking my head so that I can catch her eyes. They’re shimmery and wet and it makes my muscles clench in pain. I reach my arm up so that I can grip at her chin and stop the little wobble in her bottom lip. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise her, entwining my other hand with hers.
She’s so small and warm and I fucking hate seeing her like this.
“Come on, tough girl,” I say gruffly, standing to my feet and tugging her out of the Chevy.
She reluctantly dismounts, but she doesn’t close the door behind her, instead keeping us hidden behind it like a shield. She presses her forehead against my chest and I swell like the freaking Hulk. Christ, nothing gets me going like knowing my girl needs a little affection.
I cast a quick glance at the side door to the bar, checking that we’re unwatched, and then I let my hands run down her back, rounding my palms over her ass through her denim mini dress.
My breathing starts hitching because she’s turned me into a nymphomaniac and, feeling the tensing of my muscles all around her, she looks up at me through her lashes as she cups her hand under my groin.
A strangled groan leaves my chest and her eyelashes flutter closed.
“Yeah, princess,” I murmur hoarsely. “I’m always ready when I’m with you.”
She breathes a little moan that makes me want to take her in the back of my car.
“We don’t have much time,” she says, her mind spiralling as she thinks about the band leaving for tour. “And we can’t do anything at the ranch.”
“After the show,” I say quickly, my hips canting against her palm because she’s massaging me like a demon. “I’ll bring you backstage.”
I dip down because I’m about to kiss her when I hear the bar door swing open. My head snaps in the direction of the sound and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it’s just our drummer. Kitty’s face is hidden in the shadows but there’s no doubt that he’ll know that I’m out here with someone.
I raise my hand to signal one minute and he gives me a thumbs up before heading back inside.
Once he leaves I close up the Chevy, slipping the keys into the pouch at the front of Kitty’s dungaree dress, and then I haul her by her hand to the front door of the bar.
“Anyone you know gonna be here tonight?” I ask her, not wanting to leave her on her own whilst we perform.
“I texted River,” she says, and I exhale with relief. I’ve never been so happy to hear that little tyrant’s name in my whole life.
“Is she bringing Tate?” I ask, hopeful.
“He’s bringing her,” Kitty replies, because River is still sans license.
I nod as I push open the door, immediately scouring the room for Tate and his miniature fiancé.
Funnily enough, Chase is here, so I give him a quick handshake before I go and scout out Kitty’s accompaniments.
Standing at least four inches above the growing crowd Tate Coleson is not a hard guy to find. They’re right at the back, hidden away in the most private area, and that suits me just fine seeing as I’m about to make them guard-dog my girlfriend.
I stride my way over to him even though he hasn’t spotted me yet, too distracted running his hands all around River’s belly and neck.
River, who is about ten inches smaller than everyone else, manages to see me right away, and she whispers something to Tate that gets him to raise his head, looking for me.
When he catches my eye he gives me a jerk of his chin, although I know that he’d much rather us leave them be, so that he can rub up his woman for the rest of the night.
“Hey man,” I say, pulling Kitty in front of me by her shoulders like a piece of cargo. I raise my eyebrows at him, silently asking look after this one for me, will you?
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His fiancé pulls Kitty into her arms and their bellies press together.
Tate instantly looks down at them, jaw ticking hard when he sees what’s happening. Tate, unsurprisingly, is not a sharer, least of all when it comes to his precious bespectacled bounty. He flashes his eyes to me, unimpressed by the girl-on-girl show, as if to say this is your problem, sort it out.
“Uh…” I say thickly, not exactly sure where to put my hands. I settle for under Kitty’s armpits, lifting her backwards away from Tate’s fiancé. “None of that, Kitty. Don’t want y’all making an alien or something.”
I give her a parting squeeze on the shoulder and then, feeling Tate’s death stare boring into my soul, I turn around and haul ass, suddenly keen to get backstage and away from Tate’s twitching knuckles.
When I get backstage I’m no longer so pleased.
Kaleb, Kyle the bassist, and Dustin the drummer are all here but tuning his strings with a smug look on his face is also my best friend Tyler. His guitar glints at me and my brain short-circuits.
What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck?
I’m so stumped that I’m standing stock still right in front of them, too surprised – no, too mortified – to even bother saying hello.
Kaleb sees my reaction and nods at me as if to say I’ve got this under control. I raise an eyebrow. So he’s really taking the whole “keep your enemies closer” thing to heart, huh? Cannot say that I’m on the same moral high ground.
“Sup,” Tyler says finally, his eyes narrowed in pleasure.
Fucking sadist. I’m like one petty remark away from jumping this guy. “Uh-huh,” I say back to him, about as friendly as a punch in the jaw.
I try to diffuse the tension by asking the guys that we haven’t seen during the break what they’ve been up to, what with not living in Phoenix Falls and therefore basically being extraterrestrials. Tyler keeps his eyes on me the whole time, and I charitably restrain myself from smashing his guitar over his head.
When the woman running the bar comes into our backstage nook to ask if we’re ready, Kyle, Dustin, and Tyler head up through the thick red curtain to plug in and strum out some crowd-stirring intros.
I turn around to look at Kaleb, although he’s almost completely obscured by the backstage darkness, and I hiss out, “The fuck is going on?”
Kaleb raises his palms, trying to placate me. Naturally, I’m suddenly even angrier.
“Let me explain,” he says, voice hushed.
Please do.
“Tyler expressed some interest in rejoining and I thought that it might be good to keep a closer eye on him – work out his intentions, see if I’m sweating for no good reason.”
“Rejoining?” I grit out, my teeth clenched together.
Rejoining over my dead body.
Kaleb leans in closer, like he’s about to give me nuclear codes.
“He actually thinks that she’s got her eyes on someone else, and I think he’ll tell me who if I get all buddied up to him.”
Steam pours out of my ears. I bet he fucking will.
“Right,” I say stiffly. I can’t exactly argue with the band’s lead singer when, without him, there would be no band, so I just nod my head again and mutter out another, “Right.”
“Let’s get out there,” he says, slapping me on the back and brushing Tyler under the carpet.
There’s no point arguing my case when I can see Kaleb’s logic. If I was him, maybe I’d even do the same.
But I’m not him. I’m his worst nightmare.
I follow him out onto the stage and the cheers and clinks and rowdy crowd noises instantly aid the dulling of my frustrations. With Tyler. With Kaleb. With myself.
I look down at my guitar, suddenly remembering that I’m now without a pick, and I half-laugh half-groan as I realise that my fingers are about to get ripped to shreds.
But I don’t even care anymore, which is a dangerous feeling to have.
There’s only one thing that I care about.
I stroke out my first chord, the stage lights turn low, and when I look to the back of the crowd, she’s all that I see.
