by Anne Malcom
“I wanna do something a little different to finish off our set,” I murmured into my mic, looking to Wyatt at my side, who was grinning. “This isn’t a cover. This is one of our own. I hope you like it,” I said, starting to strum.
I wanted to close my eyes. Wanted to escape somewhere different while I laid my soul bare to a room full of strangers. I didn’t. I kept my eyes on the one person who I wrote the song for. The person who owned the soul I was exposing with the words I was singing.
As deep as the ocean
As unyielding as the wind
Stronger than diamonds
I’m going crazy and becoming sane
My world is filled with the echoes of silence
Ride along, ride free
Ride down that lonely highway with me
Sometimes lost, but never found
I’m only me when you’re around
Freedom from chains is being chained to you
I’ll ride to the edges of the earth if that’s where you’ll take me to
Or I’ll stay rooted to this ground
It doesn’t matter where I am, as long as you’re around
Ride along, ride free
Ride down that lonely highway with me
Sometimes lost, but never found
I’m only me when you’re around
I’m crazy, I’m sane
I’m loud, I’m quiet
My soul’s melody is free
These echoes of silence are a part of me
****
“Holy fuck!” Sam screamed over the top of the cheers that followed us backstage.
He turned to me and started shaking my shoulders. “They fuckin’ loved it!”
“Dude, don’t give her whiplash,” Noah instructed, but even he was grinning.
Sam didn’t let me go. Instead, he yanked me into his arms for a quick squeeze before letting me go. Then he turned to Noah, clutched the sides of his shoulders and kissed his head before jumping around like an idiot.
“Grammys here we come,” he chanted.
Wyatt rolled his eyes, following him. “Hold it together, you dick. We’ve got a record exec coming back here,” he demanded, following him.
Noah slung an arm around my shoulders. “You okay, Lex?” he asked quietly.
The boys were grinning, but I wasn’t. At least I didn’t think I was. I felt almost out of my own body.
I’d sang my own song to a crowd full of people, and they’d liked it. Loved it. There was only one person who I didn’t know about. Only one person’s opinion that matter. And it wasn’t the record exec that Clay had invited here. It was the owner of the icy eyes that had hardened the moment I started singing that song. The face that had turned blank through the rest of it.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He squeezed me. “You were amazing. That song, it’s beautiful,” he reassured me. “Record exec has to be tone deaf or an idiot not to like it.”
I nodded. “Yeah,” was all I said.
Noah turned me in his arms. “That’s not who you’re worried about though, is it?” he asked, seeing more than the other boys.
I shook my head.
“He’d also have to be an idiot not to like it,” he declared softly. “But considering Killian is far from an idiot, and he is honestly convinced you are solely responsible for producing the oxygen he breathes, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said, his voice firm.
I gave him a shaky smile. “Thanks, Noe.”
We didn’t have time to talk more because we were just about to meet the record exec that might change our lives forever.
“Okay, so that went well. Like really well,” Mom exclaimed in excitement as we walked around the club.
She squeezed her arms around my shoulders. “You’re going to be rich and famous,” she half squealed.
“Eardrums, Mom,” I replied.
She squeezed me tighter. “You don’t need eardrums to sing,” she decided.
I rolled my eyes. She was right. The meeting went well. So well, that he promised to call us and it sounded like he actually would call us. Sam and Wyatt had tried to keep serious, broody rocker expressions the entire time and started shouting and jumping around as soon as he left the room. Noah had even full-on grinned. So had Zane, who of course had been there. He was uber protective of not only Mom but me too. Mom was there because she had demanded to be and had taken her “Momager” role very seriously. Not that seriously if the way she met Will, the exec, was anything to go by.
I shook his hand. “I’m Alexis, but everyone calls me Lexie,” I said with a nervous smile.
Will smiled back. “Nice to meet you, Lexie. You’ve got one heck of a voice,” he stated. He nodded to Mom. “This your sister?” he joked.
Mom stepped forward and grinned, though Zane was scowling at him from behind her. “I’m Mia, but everyone calls me awesome,” she said, oblivious to her husband’s death glare or serious forms of introduction.
It hadn’t been serious though. It had been informal. Will was a nice man and seemed to really understand our sound. Things were looking good. Looking great, in fact. But I couldn’t properly focus on that. All I could see was Kill’s blank face as I sang my song, his song to him. I chewed my lip as we walked, oblivious to Mom’s chattering and Zane’s clipped but amused replies.
That was until we saw Kill’s car parked beside ours and his tall body leaning against it.
I wanted to run over to him, into his arms, but I was unsure. I felt strange now after singing to him, after not being able to read his face. He pushed off the car and walked toward us.
“Hey, Kill,” Mom greeted with a grin. “I had a feeling you’d be waiting for our little rock star. Get a lock of her hair now. It’ll sell for thousands on eBay in the future,” she instructed.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t see Kill’s expression properly in the dim street light. He nodded his head to Zane. “You guys mind if I take Lexie home?” he asked, his voice rough.
I held my breath. It was after midnight; my curfew was one on weekends, which it wasn’t.
“Of course,” Mom said and I relaxed. “I can make an exception this once... don’t you try and silence me with broody looks, Zane,” she snapped, turning her head to him. “If I want a villa in Tuscany, I have to stay on her good side,” she informed him.
“You want a villa in Tuscany, I’ll buy you one,” he declared, yanking her into his body.
“It’s not the same,” she replied.
We both looked at him expectantly. He sighed and shook his head. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. That was approval in Zane world.
“Thanks,” I chirped and grabbed Kill’s hand before Zane could bark out any commands.
Kill took me to the passenger side of the car silently, opening the door for me. He rounded the car and backed out in silence too. I played with my hands, not comfortable in this kind of silence, especially after the song.
“So the meeting went good, I think,” I said finally, having to fill the loaded silence.
Kill’s hand came to engulf mine, which relaxed me a little. “Not a surprise, Freckles,” he murmured.
There was another pause.
I took a deep breath. “The song,” I started, needing to explain somehow.
“Stop,” he commanded, interrupting me.
My heart fell at his harsh tone.
“We aren’t talking about that now,” he declared. “Not when I’m driving and I can’t give you my complete attention. Can’t hold you in my arms. Can’t kiss you.”
My heart soared again. Okay, so he didn’t hate it.
“So we’re not going to my place,” I deduced after his words had filled up the car.
“No,” he clipped.
“You’re willing to risk Zane’s wrath then?” I asked, knowing he’d probably be timing us.
Kill brought my hand to his mouth. “Willin’ to risk anything for you, Freckles. Don’t forget that.”
His words filled me up e
ven more, and I didn’t need any more the entire drive to the spot. Our spot.
The moment he turned the car off, my seatbelt was off and I was yanked across the car to straddle him. I didn’t even get the chance to say anything. Kill’s mouth on mine silenced me. Silenced everything. Silenced my soul. It was nothing but his mouth on mine for what felt like an eternity and a moment all at once.
“There’s nothin’ I can do, can say to you after that song, baby,” he murmured against my mouth. “I’ve never heard anything more beautiful than you singing those words, knowing that was mine. You are mine,” he said, squeezing me. “Also, I’m pretty pissed that that’s the first time I’ve got to hear one of your songs, in front of a crowd where I couldn’t drag you off to do that. Almost went crazy waiting for you to be in my arms,” he declared roughly. His hands framed my face. “Why haven’t I heard that sooner?”
I gave myself a moment to get my thundering heart under control.
“Music is my soul. My heart beats to a melody. I’m music. It’s me. Playing one of my songs out loud, to a human person, that’s laying out my soul right there in front of them, exposed and vulnerable. Do you know how that feels?”
I felt Kill’s gaze on me and his hands flexed. “Yeah, Freckles, I’ve got some idea. A part of you, your soul, couldn’t be anything but beautiful. I’m quite happy to have us on even ground, for you to lay it bare to me, considering mine already lays at your feet.”
His mouth touched mine again.
“Music is my soul,” I whispered against his mouth. “Which means my soul is never quiet, my mind is never quiet.” I stroked his hand. “Except when I’m with you. You’re the quiet to my melody. You’re part of my soul too, you know that, right?”
Kill rested his head against mine. “Yeah, I know that,” he replied, his voice rough, flat almost.
We stayed like that for a long while until it was obvious we needed to leave if Kill valued his life. I valued it.
I thought I’d be floating on cloud nine after tonight. After his words, after his reaction to my song, but something had changed, been lost after Kill deposited me back on my seat and began to drive me home. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He still held my hand in his, rested it on his thigh, bringing it to his mouth every now and then. But there was something that changed. I told myself I was just being stupid, convinced myself I was making something out of nothing.
It would haunt my dreams that I hadn’t trusted my instincts that night.
****
“How do you guys feel about missing prom?” I asked once we had taken a practice break.
Sam gave me a horrified look. “Prom? You do know that’s a guaranteed night to get laid, right?”
Wyatt punched his shoulder. “Dude,” he warned.
Sam rubbed his shoulder. “What? Lexie knows this. The entire universe knows this fact. What could be so important to miss that?” he asked me in genuine shock.
“Kill’s patch party,” I answered.
All the boys were still.
“In,” Sam said after a moment. “Totally. Screw prom,” he decided like he hadn’t been attached to it a moment ago.
Wyatt grinned. “Serious? Kill’s getting his patch?”
I nodded. “Lucky called earlier today asking if we’d want to play at the party. After he managed to clear it with Zane, of course,” I told them. I didn’t tell them it was Lucky who told me and not Kill. Didn’t add that Kill hadn’t said a thing to me. That I hadn’t heard from him since that night I told him about our record deal. It made me feel slightly uneasy, but I remembered what a big deal the patch was to Kill, how much they expected of him. He was busy. That was no reason to doubt us. Nothing could make me doubt us.
“That is fuckin’ badass,” Sam exclaimed. “Lexie, you’re gonna officially be an Old Lady.”
I screwed up my nose. “I’m not even eighteen. I’m not fond of being called old.”
It was a joke. I knew what kind of respect came with that title. What it meant. Mom had explained it to me when Kill started prospecting.
“These guys, these bikers, they’re different than normal men,” Mom explained. “Kill’s never really been a normal boy, never really been a boy. He’s always been one of them,” she continued, knitting her brows together. “When he’s patched in, hon, it’s all going to change.” She squeezed my hand. “You two are intense. Always have been, since day one, it seems. It worried me, still does, but not when I know Kill would do anything for my baby girl, jump in front of bullets if need be.” She paused, giving me a long look. “I love it for you and it also unnerves me, I won’t lie, baby doll. But I’ll never stand in the way of your happiness,” she promised. “You just need to know things are gonna change with Kill being in the Sons now.”
I gave her a smile. “Some stuff might change,” I agreed. “But the important stuff will stay the same. How I feel about Kill’s never going to change, not for as long as l live.”
I guessed a lot of moms might have dismissed such a declaration. But not my mom. She knew. She knew because she knew me and she saw us. She also knew because she had what I had. She had it with Zane.
She brought the hand she was holding up to kiss it. “I hope not, doll.”
She was right, things did change. It started that night when Kill and I were at our spot, and I put my arms around him as we stood watching the sunset. I slipped my hands under his prospect cut to find something hard, metal, and foreign. Kill flinched away at the same time as I did. I stepped two steps back, gaping at him.
His eyes registered something and he stepped forward. “Freckles,” he began softly.
I held my hand up to stop him at the same time I retreated. “No, Kill,” I said firmly. His jaw hardened but he stopped.
“That’s a gun,” I stated, nodding to the place it was tucked into his jeans.
“Freckles—” he began again, his voice soft.
“A gun, Kill,” I repeated, cutting him off.
His face went blank. “Yeah, Lexie. It’s a gun,” he agreed in a hard voice. “I’m part of the Sons now. It comes with the territory.”
I blinked at him. “A gun, one that shoots people, kills people, comes with the territory?” I clarified. I didn’t know why I was acting so shocked. I should have known. Zane carried a gun. I’d seen it many times. The club was into... things, things I didn’t know about, but things that required firepower. But they were men. This was Kill. He was one of them now.
“Yeah, Lexie. You knew this,” he said, crossing his arms. “This is the life.”
What was unsaid was, “Get used to it. There’s nothing that you can do to change it.”
I stared at him for a long time. “If you carry a gun, then it means you might be in situations where you need to use it,” I whispered, hugging my arms around myself.
Kill was obviously done letting me keep him away. He stepped forward to bring me into his arms.
“I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you,” I croaked into his chest. “At you getting hurt.”
Kill stroked my hair. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, baby, I promise.”
Sam stepped forward, peering into my face, jolting me out of my memories.
I leaned back. “What are you doing, weirdo?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I can see wrinkles,” he decided.
I punched him in the shoulder. “No, you can’t,” I argued.
He reared back, rubbing the spot. “Why does everyone think they can punch me?” he complained. “You’ve got more strength than you should being that small,” he added, regarding me skeptically.
Noah pulled him into a headlock. “People keep punching you because you keep opening your mouth and letting every thought pour out without using that thing between your ears.” He paused. “Maybe there’s nothing there.”
Sam pushed him back. “Whatever, you’re all just jealous I’m the most attractive and talented of the band. I’ll obviously get the most stalker fans,” he said modestly
.
I laughed. “You can have all the stalker fans you want. I’m quite happy staying out of that.”
Wyatt raised a brow. “Dude, look at you. No way you’re staying out of anything if we hit the big time. We’ll have to hire an army of bodyguards,” he declared.
I poked my tongue at him.
“An army?” Noah repeated. “Who needs an army when you’ve got a newly patched boyfriend who can shoot laser beams out his eyes?” he joked.
Sam laughed but for some reason, Wyatt didn’t. His face turned serious.
I didn’t have time to think on that because Sam’s face turned serious. “Wait, what do you mean ‘if’ we hit the big time. It’s when. We’ve got a fricking record meeting in a couple of days. Not to mention”—he held up his finger in a hold on gesture, pulling out his phone—“Eight hundred thousand views on our latest video. Dudes, that’s almost a million. We’re already famous.”
“Internet famous,” I corrected. “Not the same thing.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why do you insist on hurting me so?”
I laughed. “Because it’s so easy.”
Sam looked affronted. “I resent that. I’m tough. Just because your boyfriend may or may not be the terminator, you’re not a good judge,” he decided.
“The terminator?” a deep and amused voice repeated.
I moved my gaze to the owner of that voice, and my belly did the dip that it always did when I saw Killian. He was giving Sam a half grin, his arms crossed casually. They were crossed in such a way I could see the veins protruded from his forearms. He was wearing all black, like always, along with the prospect cut he’d been wearing for the last six months. His inky hair was messy and getting longer, brushing the collar of his cut. The stubble on his face was rough and made him look even more like a man and less like the boy I’d met almost two years ago. He’d always be that boy to me. The boy I loved was turning into the man I loved.
“Bro, you jump in front of bullets and refer to bullet wounds as ‘flesh wounds.’ You’re obviously not human,” Sam declared. “Plus, you’ve managed not to be murdered by Bull, so that’s terminator in my books.”