Page 29 of Tear Me to Pieces
“I might see if she wants to perform with us again. Maybe do a few more songs next time.” Apparently, Christian is working on a few plans of his own. “Tonight we muddled through, but we could probably come up with some pretty fucking cool options if we actually practice.”
I don’t disagree. Plus, practicing means spending even more time with Myra. Unfortunately, spending more time with Myra means the odds I’ll manage to behave myself—give her the space to decide what she wants—go down exponentially.
And after that kiss, they’re already fucking underground.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. See how she’s feeling and what she’s thinking.” Christian seems to be just as excited about how the performance went as Myra is.
I can’t blame him. We’ve been playing together for a long time. And while I love it—some of my best memories are centered on nights like tonight—there’s a certain amount of stagnation creeping in. Adding a new voice to our lineup would bring in a freshness we probably need.
Tate slips through the curtain, carrying a drink for each of us. “Bottoms up, boys. We don’t have much time.”
I take the whiskey he brought me and tip it back, swallowing down a few mouthfuls even though I hate the idea of washing away Myra’s taste. I need something to take the sharp edge off my thoughts. Calm them down before they pick up momentum and start slashing through the boundaries I need to keep in place.
While we take a breather, Christian and Tate fall into an easy conversation about running businesses, and I start to tune them out. I do work for myself—contracting pays better than working for someone else, so that’s the route I take—but I don’t run a whole-ass business.
Yet. It could happen soon. I could start looking into buildings to?—
“Fuck,” I swear under my breath and drink down the rest of my liquor, letting the burn steal my attention away from plans I need to stop making.
Thankfully, our break is soon over and I throw myself into the performance.
At least, I try to.
Knowing where Myra sits makes it hard to look at anyone else. Impossible to keep my eyes from going to that spot anytime they can. And every time they go there, she’s looking back at me. Watching me the same way I’m watching her.
By the time the show’s over, my skin is itching with the need to get away. It’s obvious that’s the only option I have. I just need a night to get my head back in the game. To hit the brakes on the future my mind’s trying to manifest.
One featuring blue-eyed little girls with their momma’s serious nature and determination.
Once the show’s over, I bust my ass helping break down our set. Packing up lights and speakers and instruments while Tate and Christian take their sweet time, splitting their attention between the task and their wives.
I’m shoving the last of the wire into the back of the box truck we use to haul our shit around, when a soft voice freezes me in place.
“Hey.”
Bracing, I turn to find Myra standing right behind me. I’ve been staring at her all night, but I’m still struck by how pretty she is. What would it be like to wake up to her every morning?
To sleep beside her every night.
I clear my throat as my thoughts slide downhill fast. “Hey.”
“Umm.” Myra glances to where her sister and Piper stand talking to Christian and Tate. “Can I ride with you? They want to go get food, but I’m really tired.”
“Of course,” I agree without thinking.
Even if I did think, I’d still agree. I don’t see any scenario where I’d refuse her anything. Even backstage—if she’d pushed, told me she wanted more from me, I would have given it to her. Thank God she didn’t, because the last thing I need is Christian finding me with my hand down his sister-in-law’s pants while she chants my name.
And just like that, my mind is right back in the spot I’ve tried to dig it out of all fucking night.
Only this time, it’s taken my dick with it.
Myra gives me a relieved smile. “Thanks.” She turns and yells over one shoulder. “Simon’s going to take me home. You guys have fun.”
I don’t look at Christian. I don’t want him to think I’m gauging his reaction… Even though I’d like to. “I’ve just got to close the back up and then we can go.” I tip my head toward the cab. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Or a few.
It looks like I won’t be getting the evening alone I desperately need, so every fucking second counts.
