Page 16 of Drum Me Away
Ironically, we’d just played a sold-out show there a week ago, and while it hadn’t even crossed my mind to call on my parents or the one sister who still lived there, I had considered popping in and paying Grandma a visit.
I hadn’t, though, and that regret was something I’d have to live with for the rest of my life.
When I opened the door, steam billowed out and enveloped Lucas for a moment before dissipating. Had he been standing out here all this time? My shower had lasted longer than I anticipated, but crying with the water pouring over me was cathartic.
“Do you want to shower?” I asked, tugging on the lapels of my robe. He’d seen me in much, much less than this terrycloth garment, but somehow, this moment felt uncomfortably intimate. “I’m going to dry my hair.” I pointed at the bathroom, where I had an extra set of everything I needed to complete my beauty routine.
“You okay?” he asked for the hundredth time since I told him Grandma died.
I thought about the voicemail I’d listened to a short time ago.
Faith, this is your mother. I’ve called a dozen times. You’re probably screening your calls. Or you’re drunk or high or whatever people like you do at this time of night. Anyway, since you won’t answer, I’m leaving this news on your voicemail. Your grandmother passed suddenly this evening. Heart attack. It was very quick. One moment she was tending to her flowers, the next she collapsed in her backyard. A neighbor found her and called 9-1-1. I’ll call again when we’ve made funeral arrangements. Maybe you’ll actually answer this time.”
She didn’t expect me to rush home the moment I heard the news. That voicemail—that expectation—spoke volumes about our relationship.
“As okay as I can be,” I responded to Lucas, and then I pushed him toward the shower. “If you’re going with me, get in there. I don’t want you all stinky and sweaty sitting next to me on the plane.”
He hesitated again. Seriously, what was up with him? Even when we were friends, he wasn’t this damn attentive.
I pointed at the bathroom. “I probably won’t even be done drying my hair by the time you’re finished.”
Finally, he stepped into the shower room and shut the door.
I sucked in a shaky breath and began working on taming my thick locks. Just as I predicted, he was done before I was, coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair damp and finger combed. His skin was golden, that sun-kissed tan still lingering from when he’d spent six weeks at home, hanging out on the lake.
His muscles were sharp, cut, complimenting his narrow, tall frame. My gaze dropped to that Adonis belt on his hips before I forced myself to focus on braiding my not-quite-dry hair.
I had no business admiring his body, wondering what it would be like to lick those V-shaped muscles all the way down to the pot of gold under that towel.
He has a girlfriend.
Whoever she was, she was far more laidback than I could ever be. Those kisses he and I shared practically every night now, even though they were for show, sure felt hella real. And if I were being entirely honest with myself, theywerereal—at least on my end. I couldn’t help myself. Lucas was an amazing kisser, and audience or no, I was helpless to keep this aspect of our game fake. It was, well, too real.
And it looked real, in the endless videos I saw online, captured by fans who were eating up this new turn in our phony relationship. If Lucas ultimately quit the band, he could easily become a movie star with the skills he had.
I still had no clue how Dahlia thought this would make our fake breakup easier for our fans to take, but I couldn’t focus on that right now. Dealing with my family, saying goodbye to Grandma; that came first.
“Hey, we should probably get to the airport soon. Do you need help packing a bag?”
I blinked rapidly. Who knew how long my mind had wandered and how long I’d been standing here, staring at my braid in the mirror but seeing something entirely different. I cleared my throat and dropped my gaze from his body, now covered in clothing.
Shaking my head, I said, “No, I’ll do it. I-I need to get dressed. I need—” I had no idea what I needed.
“I assume we’ll stay through the funeral,” Lucas said. “I’d pack a bag for a week, at least. We need to call Dahlia and ask her to ship me one of my suits from LA, or we’ll need to go shopping when we get there, because funeral attire is not something I thought to pack for this leg of the tour.”
He planned to attend the funeral with me.Damn. “Shit. We can’t be gone that long. We have four shows next week.”
He waved his phone. “Already have Gabe on it. He’s rescheduling everything through the Madison, Wisconsin, date, and he’s prepared to keep rescheduling as long as you need.”
“So everybody knows?” I sucked in a breath. Not that I planned to keep something like this from my bandmates. I just wasn’t good at dealing with heightened emotions. Specifically my own.
The tour bus door crashed open, and speak of the devil, the rest of our bandmates came tumbling up the stairs and down the aisle toward us. Before I could catch my breath, I was in the middle of a group hug, and it was enough to set off a fresh wave of tears, damn it.
I pushed away the arms encompassing me and swiped at my face. Somebody waved a tissue in front of me, and I took it and blew my nose.
“We’re so sorry, Faith,” Ice said, his own eyes shimmering.
“I had a hard time when my gran passed,” Craig said. “It sucked. When you’re ready, we’ll have a toast to the two of them and swap grandparent memories.”
