AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her fingers brush mine when she returns the card. I decline the receipt and slide aside. When was the last time a girl hit on me? Laurel certainly never did.
Laurel.
I stand by the window, wait for my order, and daydream about her smile peeking through a tangle of her wild red hair as she’d spin my fractured ideas into something beautiful. The image stabs me in the heart. I miss her. Every time I run with Shane, all I can think of is that night we ran from my fans. I’d give anything to turn back time and relive that moment. To hold her hand and listen to her grouch at me. To have her draw another set of cat whiskers on my face. I was the one to entice her out of hiding. I was the one she revealed her pains to.
Was.
Dummy.
“Order sixty-five.”
That’s mine. I return to the counter.
The girl from earlier hands me a paper bag printed with the shop’s fancy logo. “My number’s inside, Jace Blackmore,” she whispers. “And I think ACD’s last song was amazing, no matter what the critics say. It’s full of your earlier, raw sound. I play it on repeat all the time.” Her eyes are full of nervous expectation, and it breaks my heart to shatter her hopes.
“Thank you. It means a lot.” It really does. “As for the number, I’m sorry. I won’t be using it.”
She offers an embarrassed smile. “Because you’re dating Laurel Halifax. Still, it was worth a shot.” She dashes back to work.
I fish out my ham and cheese croissant and bite half of it off, smothering the awkwardness with savory joy. That was flattering but also awful. Everyone still thinks I’m with Laurel. I told Shane and my bandmates that we’re through, but they have better things to do than disprove the tabloids or correct the fans. It seems I should drop a note on social media that Laurel and I have parted ways, but that will only spark more gossip and rumors and drive the hounds back in Laurel’s direction. She doesn’t need that.
I’m approaching the doors when a strong hand lands on my shoulder. Clenching my food to my body with one arm, I arrest the hand that burst my personal bubble and squeeze hard.
“Hey, hey!”
As soon as I see who it is, I drop my bag and the croissant as I stutter, “I’m…I’m so sorry!”
“I need these, you know? This is my strumming hand.” Clenching his fingers, Vincent grins. “Long time no see.”
I swipe the paper bag off the floor and steel myself for what every father says when he meets his daughter’s ex.
“How are you doing?” Vincent asks. He appears to be happy to see me. Not as in you’re-dead-meat kind of happy. Just happy.
“I’m good.”
“Great.” He adjusts his black baseball cap and looks around. “Do you have a minute?”
I shouldn’t relax. He’s an out-of-this-world performer. We’re all not only musicians, but actors too. I’m not in the safe zone yet. “Sure do.” This is my answer? Agree to talk to a guy who can bury my career? I always make the best choices.
“Blackmore.” Jonas appears next to Vincent, holding a bag that matches mine and four paper cups in a carrier tray.
“Hey.” Despite knowing I can fight my way out, I swallow.
“This won’t take long,” Vincent says to his guard dog. “Wait for us in the car? We’ll be over there.” He points at the cluster of round tables shaded by the trees outside the coffee shop.
Jonas frowns at him. “Okay.” He transfers the frown to me and waits for us to move.
The outside eating area is empty except for a young woman in workout clothes with a baby in a stroller. She takes turns between snapping pictures of her adorable infant girl and sipping from her tall iced drink. She pays zero attention to us. In a few months, this will be Juliette. The thought isn’t as hard to comprehend anymore. Hm.
“What are you up to these days?” Vincent asks after we claim a table farthest from the entrance.
“Dealing with some personal issues at the moment.”
He nods. “Succeeding?”
“Too early to tell.”
“I don’t know your schedule, but I’m off on my holiday tour in a few days, and I’ve run into a serious problem. I need a rhythm guitarist. I know you’re more of a lead guy, but what do you say? Is there a chance you’d lend me a hand for a couple months?”
