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“It’s fine,” I try and breezily deflect his apology as I look away, unable to hold his gaze. With a sigh, I ask, “What do we need to change about the hook?”
When he’s silent for a little too long, I meet his dark green gaze and glare at him when I find amusement there. I snatch my hand out from under his because it feels too good to have him touch me. Not that it matters much, his touch is branded on my skin already.
Imagine him touching you other places.
I barely suppress a full-body shudder at the thought. The way his eyes heat has me wondering if he can read my mind. That would not be a good thing.
His voice drops an octave as he husks, “The hook is perfect, Songstress.”
I blink at him a few times, trying to reconcile the way he’s looking at me and the conversation we had a few days ago when we were first left alone. He was all sharp thorns then, but I tried not to take offense.
There has to be a lot of pressure on his shoulders to get his shit together and make something of himself at his new label. He has to prove himself even though he’s already found success. Falling from grace, in the wake of his loss, couldn’t have been easy.
I don’t envy the man.
I narrow my gaze and ignore his nickname for me or the way it makes warmth spread through my body. “You’re just messing with me?”
Langston leans back and winks. “It’s easy to do.” Before I can tell him where to shove it, he rubs his beard with a thoughtful expression on his face as he regards me. “You’ve surprised me with your talent, Cove.”
The hair on my arms stand up as I bristle, my pride taking a hit with his words. I’ve been trying to keep in mind that this man is broken and has seen the worst in himself for a long time. In all honesty, I’m proud of him that he’s been trying to put himself back together. That takes bravery and courage.
But does it also require him to put his foot in his mouth?
I slam my notebook closed and slap it down on the coffee table in front of me before standing quickly. The way Langston’s eyes go wide tell me that he has no idea how fucking rude and abrasive his comment was.
Well, he fucking should.
“Thanks,” I sneer sarcastically before storming out of the studio and upstairs.
I need a little bit of space before my temper gets the better of me. Not only do I not want to be that kind of person, but I need this opportunity to work for me. There’s no way I want some reputation for being difficult to work with.
There’s no way I’ll give up my dream easily because of some entitled rock star.
CHAPTER 5
LANGSTON
As I run my hand over my face, self-loathing seeps into the deepest parts of me. I fucked up. I know it. Who likes to be told that someone is surprised at how talented they are? I would hate it if someone said that shit to me.
If she knew how deeply impressed I am by her, and how much it surprised me, she probably would have slapped me. I wouldn’t have even blamed her for it, honestly.
The only person I had ever written music with was Conley and there were times, especially after we got famous and were trying to stay on top, when it was extremely difficult. We’d struggle over making what we both brought to the table mesh together into something cohesive that made sense for our band.
It didn’t always work. Hell, there are probably notebooks full of songs that were complete shit or are unfinished. I’m sure they’re right where I left them in the house we shared in California. I haven’t been there since right after Conley was laid to rest.
There was no way I could face that place then. I’m not even sure I could go there now and not feel like the ground was moving beneath my feet. Being sober might help, or it might make the darkness feel even bleaker and all encompassing.
“Fuck,” I bark out sharply knowing full well that Cove can’t hear me with the studio being sound proofed.
The look of hurt in her eyes and the way she practically ran away from me like there was a hell hound nipping at her heels guts me.
“Get your shit together,” I mutter to myself.
Not only has working with Cove helped me tap back into music, inspiration coming to me from the moment I set my eyes on her, but it’s settled something in me. Don’t worry, I’m aware she’s not some cure-all. I’m still broken.
I’m just not sure that I’m fractured beyond repair anymore.
Is that because of the music or because of her? Both? Does it even matter?
