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“I don’t want to tour anymore,” Killian announced as he dumped sugar into his coffee. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I hate it. Makes my brain all scrambled.”
I glanced at Dean. “Is the band breaking up now?”
“No.” Maverick shook his head. “Just no more touring. It’s too much. We can still record music.”
Dean tilted his head as he thought about it. “The two of you already discussed this.”
“We did, but if you want to tour, we will.” Maverick nudged our singer. “Tell them.”
Killian shook his head. “You tell them.”
“One of you needs to tell us.” I sighed. “If you’re sick of us or the band or whatever this is, fine. But now that we all like one another again, it would be a terrible time to break up.”
“I never hated you,” Maverick blurted. “It was my anxiety and missing Jackson. I just need stability. We need to stability.” He waved his hand between himself and Killian. “That last tour we did for the album nearly killed us. We spent a lot of time trying to hold our mental health together.”
Killian nodded. “I’m building a recording studio at my house. All of you can come down there, stay with us, and then go home when it’s done.”
“That sounds... actually, that sounds pretty good. We could do live streams and stuff. The fans would like that. It would be more intimate.” Dean sat back in his chair.
“It does,” I agreed. My conversation with Tommy came back to me. I could move here with him. Or somewhere else. Like North Carolina.
Maverick grinned. “I told you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you were right.” Killian rolled his eyes. “This guy, right? I mean, if he wasn’t getting married, I might kiss him.”
Maverick’s entire face turned bright red. “Kill, you can’t say stuff like that to me. What would Matty think?”
“Remember that time I caught the two of you in the tree house?” Dean chuckled when Killian held up his middle finger. “You two were so going to fuck.”
Killian popped his jaw. “We were not going to fuck, asshole. I kissed him, and you know what? Shut your trap. Tell me about your Beau and when he kissed you, huh? What was that like?”
“Perfect.” Dean dropped his chin. “The best kiss I ever had, actually.”
I made a slashing motion against my neck. “Stop.” I mouthed at Killian.
“Really?” Killian whispered.
Dean nodded. “He didn’t want to do anything other than kiss, but I pushed him for more. He was very polite about it. He was just going to help me dye my hair.”
“That’s when you went back to white for a while.” Maverick reached over to squeeze his arm. “That was something when you showed up looking exactly like me. Green is your color.”
Dean gave a faint smile. “He said his sister was a hairdresser.”
“Sam,” Maverick answered. “She’s coming to the wedding. She’s doing my hair.”
“Maybe she could cut mine for me. I don’t like it this long anymore.” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper. “He did, though. He liked it long, which is why I was growing it out, but I don’t think that—”
“Don’t cut it. This look suits you.”
All of us looked up at to find a tall, blue-eyed man with inky black hair standing behind Maverick. I recognized him immediately as Beau Whitlock.
“Dean?” He said his name like a lyric to a love song, and my guitar player’s eyes softened. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Dean climbed to his feet. “I’ll be fine, Kill. Put your knives away,” he promised before he followed Beau outside.
Maverick grabbed Killian’s arm. “Leave it.”
“Was it Jax?” I asked as the waitress brought our food over to the table.
