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“I want to leave the band because I can’t play bass any longer, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by being useless. I also don’t want to hold you guys back.”

That was the damn truth, and I couldn’t say it any plainer. I would be holding them back if I didn’t leave. I’d made up my mind, and now, I waited for them to pass their judgment.

Arlo stood, his gaze steady on me. “If you want to stay with the band, we can get another bass player, JD. You don’t have to leave just because you might not be able to play anymore.”

“Jeez, Arlo,” River snapped. “We don’t know yet if he can’t play. Give him a fucking break.”

“Look, Riv, Goldie and I are getting married, and we need to know if we have jobs. Don’t you need to know if you’ll have a job going forward?”

River shrugged. “How do we know you guys aren’t going to ditch us?”

Goldie chuckled. “Oh, so we’re going to start feeding on each other now? Look, if JD can’t play, that’s not the end of the band. He can still sing if he wants to, and now we know he can write music. Hell, the songs we’ve recorded for the Smoke Show album are amazing. I’d sing his songs any day he wants to give them to us.”

I glanced at Nate Ashby. “If I can’t play, then I don’t want to perform. I’m not good at performing anyway. I have anxiety about it.”

Mr. Ashby walked over and touched my shoulder. “Son, if you want to leave the band, then that’s what you should do. The band will either live or die on its own merit, but no member is the life’s breath of this band. I’m not being a prick here. Every band has a sound, but if a member leaves, it doesn’t mean the sound will go away.”

I inhaled before I turned to Thatcher. “Why am I not worth marrying?” Thatcher sat up on the bench where he’d been sitting, appearing to be shocked by my outburst.

“I never said you weren’t worth marrying, Jordan. I didn’t think you wanted to get married, and I wasn’t going to push you.”

“Why? Am I not worth it? Because my hand is fucked up, am I not worth it?”

Thatcher stood and walked over to me, falling to his knees in front of me and taking both of my hands. “I love you, and I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you, Jordan.”

“Is that a proposal?” I asked, not happy with the way it was presented.

Thatcher grinned. “No, because that would be a shitty proposal. It’s the promise of a proposal when you’re ready, honey.”

I couldn’t respond. Marriage? It was inconceivable to me that anyone would want to marry me, but there he stood. My firefighter who loved me. I’d never imagined anything so beautiful would be in my future.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Thatcher

Had I just proposed? It hadn’t been my intention, but god, I loved Jordan more than I could say, and the idea of spending the rest of my life with him didn’t scare me one bit.

As I knelt in front of him, I wished to hell I’d been smart enough to have bought a ring I could whip out and propose to him in that moment, but my brain had stalled on a practical problem and a fast way to solve it—his upcoming lack of insurance and how I could help him. As I stared at Jordan, I knew he was worth more than a signature on a page. He was worth a ring and a lifelong commitment.

I could tell my guy was pissed at my earlier suggestion, so I took him in my arms. “How about we discuss this another time? I don’t think this is the best time to discuss our relationship. You’ve got enough on your plate with the band, don’t you?”

Jordan smiled and nodded, so I sat next to him on the patio, holding his hand, and let the band hash it out. He had to do what would make him happiest going forward.

“I’d be happy to write songs for you guys if I could collaborate with Riv for the melody. I can play piano a little, so for other songs, I’ll figure out something else, but for you guys, I’ll always want to write for you.” I squeezed his hand in support.

“And, of course, the band will buy your songs like we would anyone else’s. We can work out a contract that’s fair to both parties. Will you get other representation?” Nate asked.

Jordan glanced to Lerner and lifted an eyebrow. When Lerner laughed and nodded, Jordan released a held breath and his shoulders lowered. His hand, which had been gently shaking, stilled as he lifted mine to kiss my knuckles.

“Okay, so, Lerner, do you feel you can represent all of their interests fairly?” Nate asked.

Lerner nodded, and everyone clapped. I could see the relief on Jordan’s face, so I stood and picked him up, swinging him in a circle before putting him down and kissing him. We’d figure out the rest together. He’d maneuvered through a minefield and come out unscathed. I had faith he’d be able to handle everything coming at him. Of course I’d be there to support him.

Saturday morning, I went for a run in Nate’s swanky neighborhood. When I got back to the mansion, the band members were sitting around the kitchen in deep discussion. Jordan was explaining something as I got myself a bottle of water from the fridge.

“So, uh, Thatcher, Riv, and JD were telling us about the fire at the Dockweiler Youth Center. Nobody was inside, right?” Arlo held up his phone to show me pictures from the media coverage. I was climbing the ladder with a charged hose to try to wet the roof.

“Yeah, uh, it was arson, or so the inspector reported. The police are investigating it now.”