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“Is he okay?” Tommy murmured into my ear.
I wanted to taste that mouth. Claim him in front of everyone, but I didn’t. Instead, I touched his arm lightly and moved in closer to catch his familiar clean scent.
“I don’t know. He’s been an absolute bear all night.” I didn’t mention the bump Killian had snorted right before we went on stage. His use of drugs had started to become a reoccurring theme on nights we had a show and don’t even get me started on the drinking.
We both watched wide-eyed as Helena appeared, and even though we couldn’t hear her over the crowd of people in the club, it was more than obvious that she was angry. I tried to read her lips, but all I could make out was “What in the actual fuck?” and “Accident.” Then Killian was grabbing his sister’s hand so he could drag her to the small closet the club called a dressing room.
“It’s Matty.” Tommy held up his phone. “Helena texted us. He was in a car accident.”
That might explain everything about Killian tonight. “Was it bad?”
“It sounds like it could have been worse. A few bruises and a sprained wrist. Someone t-boned him. He’s in the hospital. We should probably go see him.” Tommy worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
Helena came storming back toward the stage with hot, angry eyes and Killian on her heels. Neither one of them said a word to us as they walked across the room and out the front door. Guess that meant he wouldn’t be staying to help us pack up all our stuff. It was going to be a long night, and we still had an hour’s drive back to Canfield.
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about Matty tonight.” I nudged Tommy’s shoulder.
He grinned. “Probably not.” Tommy’s fingers brushed mine and then he gripped two in his hand. “You coming over tonight? Jackson’s home for the weekend. He wants to take us out to lunch tomorrow.”
Maverick slammed his drumstick against one of his cymbals. He scowled at me when I looked in his direction. His emerald eyes flashed with irritation before he looked away, and I once again wondered what had happened between him and Jackson. They had been inseparable. Now Maverick had turned into whatever he was now. Mean and hostile.
“Do you want to join us, Mav?” Tommy asked, and my drummer shook his head. “I’m sure Jax would love to see you.”
Maverick fiddled with one of his drums before he yanked it off the set. “I don’t want to spend time with you or Jackson. You can tell him I said that too. You can all fuck right off.” He growled and bared his teeth like a caged animal.
“Mav—”
“Fuck you, Blake,” Maverick snapped. “Don’t say another word to me.”
Tommy took a step forward. “Don’t talk to him like that. Just because you’re going through something doesn’t mean you can take it out on everyone else. You’ve been a real dick lately.”
“And I plan on staying the lovely asshole that I am. Fuck you, too, Olson.” Maverick was on a roll tonight. His eyes darted down to where Tommy was still holding my fingers, and his whole expression changed, a smirk pulling at his lips.
I quickly untangled our fingers. “Mav, someday someone is going to put you in your place. Knock you on your ass the way you deserve.”
“That going to be you, Blake?” Maverick raised his brows. “Or maybe your sweet Tommy wants to give it a try?”
I pressed a hand against Tommy’s chest. “Don’t.”
“We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Maverick taunted, then his face turned dark. He wasn’t a big guy, but he had enough anger inside of him these days that I was terrified of what might happen if he was provoked. The beast that might be unleashed.
“Whoa, everyone looks so serious. Am I interrupting?” Dean placed his guitar case down and raised his palms when his brother hissed at him. “Jesus, Mav, you need to learn how to relax.”
Without a response, the three of us watched Maverick stalk away, his hands balled into fists at his side. He ignored the girls who tried to talk to him, only stopping when he reached the bar. He grabbed the beer placed before him and downed the entire thing before he raised his hand for another.
“Maverick needs someone to take him down a few notches,” Tommy muttered.
Dean shrugged. “You’re not wrong.” He flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ve tried, more than once, to get him to talk to me. He just... He’s so angry all the time, and I don’t know how to get through to him. Maverick and I used to be so close. He’s not the same person he was when Jackson was here.”
“He acts like he hates Jackson,” Tommy said.
Dean shook his head. “Trust me when I tell you he doesn’t.” He kicked at one of the microphone stands. “Come on, let’s pack up so we can head home.”
***
Practice was an absolute disaster. The air in the basement was thick with tension. Maverick was in one of his moods, and Killian seemed ready to burst out of his skin. We really had to do something about our communication skills as a band, or we were going to implode before we had a chance to win our first Grammy. And once again, Killian was stumbling over lyrics to songs he should know by heart.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” I asked against my better judgment.
