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Taylor held them both a little closer and smiled.
They’d made their first memory inside this house, and it was a beautiful one, but there’d be countless more.
Because they were just getting started.
Taylor couldn’t tell you where they were. The only thing he knew was the bus pulled out of Atlanta after their gig and they were heading south to Florida. Tampa maybe—or was it Jacksonville? He didn’t bloody remember and he didn’t bloody care. Venery was only six weeks into their tour and he was more than ready to go home. He missed Jesse and he missed Chloe.
Leaving them behind just days after their wedding was probably the hardest thing he’d had to do in his life so far. He wished they could have come with him, but a tour bus was no place for Chloe to be. Not to mention the press was always snooping around. They were constantly dodging the paps and Taylor didn’t want those bastards anywhere near her.
He punched the pillows in his bunk and closed his eyes. The monotonous hum of wheels on pavement usually lulled him to sleep. Not tonight. Sleep eluded him. Blue light shined through the crack in the curtain from Sloan’s bunk across from him. Bo softly snored in the bunk below him. Matt and Kit had passed out before the bus even left the venue.
It was two in the morning back home. Jesse and Chloe were no doubt in bed, sound asleep, spooned against each other with Jesse’s hand resting protectively on her rounded belly. Or maybe they were fucking. Sliding his fat cock into her from behind. A cherry nipple between his fingers. And now Taylor’s dick was hard, and he still couldn’t sleep.
They were settling into married life while he was stuck on this fucking bus. He wasn’t there for Valentine’s Day—which was also Chloe’s birthday. They were picking out cabinets and paint colors. He wasn’t there for Chloe’s last doctor’s appointment. They got to cuddle together in a cozy warm bed. He got to listen to Bo snore. They got closer together while this bus took him farther away from them.
He climbed out of his bunk and padded into the lounge. A drink might do the trick. Taylor poured some whiskey into a glass and sat down at the black leather banquette. He pulled out his phone, wishing it wasn’t so late so he could call them. Hear Jesse’s smooth voice and Chloe’s sweet giggle. He hated when he got to feeling this way. It’s not that they excluded him or anything.
They FaceTimed all the time, every chance they got. They showed him photos of cabinets and held up paint chips so he could help choose. Jesse sent him an audio recording of Peanut’s heartbeat. He got teary every time he listened to it. Taylor had a massive bouquet of roses delivered on Valentine’s Day, balloons, presents, and a coconut cake with cherries on top. He and the boys sang Chloe “Happy Birthday” and watched her blow out all twenty-three candles—one for each year and one more for good luck.
But he wasn’t there.
“What you doin’?”
Sloan slid Taylor’s empty glass across the table and poured himself some whiskey. He leaned back against the banquette and put his feet up, staring vacantly at nothing out the window. After a moment, he turned his head toward Taylor and his brows drew together.
Taylor shrugged.
“Cheer up, man.” He drank the whiskey. “You look like your cat died or somethin’.”
“I don’t have a cat.” Taylor refilled the glass and tipped it back.
“Everything good at home?”
He nodded and pushed the empty glass toward Sloan.
The voice of Venery chuckled. He took the glass and poured more whiskey into it as he shook his head. “It’s fucking with your head, man. I can see it. We all see it.” He smirked, and without looking up he murmured, “But I’m just not sure if it’s Jesse or the girl that’s doing it.”
What in bloody Christ is he going on about?
Sloan looked at him then and cocked his head with a grin. “I mean, are you more afraid of losing Jesse to her while you’re gone? Or losing the girl to Jesse, hmm?”
Taylor stood up so fast he would have knocked the table over if it weren’t secured to the floor. “That girl is my wife, you arsehole,” he seethed.
Sloan didn’t even flinch. “Jesse’s wife.”
“And mine.”
“If you say so.” Sloan shrugged; the grin still etched his face.
Taylor balled his fists. He wanted to smack it right off him. “I say so.”
“Then knock it off with your fucking cock ’n pussy-whipped bullshit, man,” Sloan mocked him. He twisted his face and stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m tired of it. At least you have someone to go home to.”
“So that’s what’s stuck up your arsehole then.” Taylor relaxed his hands at his sides. “How long has it been, Sloan? More than a year, right?” He took a step toward his bunk and stopped. “I suggest you get the fuck over it.” And with that he climbed back into his bunk and closed the curtain.
He still couldn’t sleep, though.
Blinding sun pierced through his eyelids. Taylor covered them with his hand and blinked his eyes open. Were they in Florida yet? He must’ve finally slept, but he still felt out of sorts. His mouth was dry and his breath fetid from stale whiskey and sleep. He threw his legs over the bunk and jumped down.
