“Chill the fuck out, Noble.”
“Guys, both of you get a grip.” Alder slammed his fist on the arm of the loveseat and stood, eyes on his brother. “Tate’s right. If you’re losing it because of the stalker, then say so. But this shit you pulled? The fucking drinking and smoking? It stops now.”
“Deal.” Scratching his jaw and staring at the floor, Brave sighed. “But it’s not really about the stalker. It’s about Valor.”
Alder sank back down to the loveseat, shaking his head. “Valor? Damn it, Brave, why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m trying to.” Brave’s lips quirked slightly. “Shit, I didn’t know it was fucking with me so much. The stalker seems like he was obsessed with our brother before he fixated on me. Maybe when I’m dead, he’ll go after you.”
Danica bit her lip as Alder tensed beside her. She put her hand over the one with a death-grip on his knee. “That’s not funny, Brave.”
“No, what’s funny is the son of a bitch loved Valor, the fucking hero. His latest gift is a CD of LOST songs and pictures of Valor. And a poem that included Valor among the greats that we’ve lost too soon. I’m sure our brother would have loved being mentioned along with Kurt Cobain, Benjamin Curtis, and Buddy Holly.” Brave combed his fingers into his hair with a broken laugh. “Of course, they actually did something worth remembering them for.”
“So did Valor.” Alder stood again, this time crossing the room and approaching his brother, putting his hand on Brave’s shoulder and meeting his eyes. “As bad as things are between us, I’m fucking grateful to him for saving you.”
Brave pressed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the window frame. “He didn’t save me. He almost got the whole band killed.”
Everyone sat forward, staring at Brave in shock. Danica hugged herself, wishing she could go to Alder, because she didn’t trust Brave not to lash out if sharing the truth about Valor ripped open an old wound. But Alder could handle his brother now, better than he’d ever managed before.
He wasn’t the same man that Brave had used as a punching bag for years.
Alder gave his brother a little nudge when the silence lengthened. “What are you talking about, Brave? Is this about the van you guys had breaking down?”
“The van didn’t fucking break down. Valor was high on PCP and walked out of the motel we were staying at in the middle of the night. The desk clerk came and got me because it was fucking freezing and she was worried.” Brave turned, slightly, staring sideways out the window, but not like he was seeing anything other than what he remembered. “I tried to follow his tracks, but it was snowing so much…Skull dragged me back to the van and the whole band went looking. We kept stopping along the side of the road, then splitting up, calling for him. The cops were on their way, but it was a bad night, so they took forever. By the time they got to us we were all in rough shape. I don’t even remember getting to the hospital.”
“Jesus. Why the fucking story then?” Alder let his hand fall to his side, not sure if he was more angry about being lied to, or that he’d been standing in the shadows of a dead man who’d never deserved Brave’s love. “I don’t understand. I thought you hated me because I’m not him. You lost the brother you were closest to and got stuck with me.”
“No, by the end I fucking hated Valor. I was so tired of dealing with his shit, with him getting more and more out of control, sometimes so violent we were all afraid to be around him. But I wanted the band to make it, so put up with whatever he threw at me. Sound familiar?” Brave’s lips thinned. “That’s why I went along with the story when Cole came up with it. The press ate up the idea of Valor being a hero. And Mom and Dad? Fuck, they would have blamed me for what happened either way, but at least they could pretend their dead firstborn had been perfect.”
“They couldn’t be bothered with any of us for how fucking long? I don’t think they would have cared either way.”
Brave’s brow lifted. “Our parents love you, Alder.”
With a thin smile, Alder inclined his head. “They do now. As much as they can love anyone, and only because I go home and let Mom show me off to her friends, and let Dad brag about how Mathew expanded the shop.”
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t tried that.”
“Why would you? You’re right, they do blame you for what happened to Valor and it’s fucked up.” Alder shoved his hands into his pockets and gave Brave a hard look. “Is that why you hate me?”
“I don’t fucking hate you. I need you to not be close to me. You fucking scared the hell out of me when we started Winter’s Wrath, acting like I was amazing, like we could create another band just like LOST. That was the last thing I wanted.” Brave hunched his shoulders. “It was easier to push you away. The worse things got, the more determined you were. You never touched hard drugs, you hardly ever got wasted. I was fucking proud of you. I still am”
Brave’s words were like a punch in the gut. Alder’s eyes burned and he blinked fast, taking an involuntary step back. “You’re proud of me? Are you fucking joking?”
“No.”
“You have a fucked up way of showing it.”
“Yeah, well I’m fucked up. I figured we could work together, but it would be safer if you weren’t like a brother. If you were just part of the band. That way, if anything happened to me, it wouldn’t fucking destroy you.”
Alder wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Wrapping them around Brave’s neck was a good option. “So you let it destroy everything?”
“That wasn’t the plan. It just kinda…hell, things just got worse and worse. This psycho stalker bringing up Valor, Cole wanting to write a fucking tribute to him.”
“The stalker?” Tate asked suddenly, reminding Alder that there were other people in the room. “That’s fucked up, Brave. This is all fucked up, but I like that you two are talking. Is everything better now? I really don’t want to cancel the show tomorrow.”
Brave rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not the stalker, Tate. But that’s a good point. And part of why we needed to meet as a band.” He rubbed his jaw, his gaze going slowly over every man on the couch. Then shifting to Danica and Jesse. “And you’re both important to the show as well, but first…I’m sorry. It’s just a fucking word, but I need you to know I mean it.”
“Sorry about everything? Even the sex?” Tate grunted when Malakai jabbed an elbow in his side. “What? Yeah, the timing was bad, but it was good.”
Brave snorted. “Yes, Tate. Even the sex.”
Alder noticed Danica holding Jesse’s hand and speaking to him softly as Jesse ground his teeth. Shooting Tate a dirty look, Alder turned back to his brother. “Can we get back on topic?”
“That’s a good idea.” Brave shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s simple. I was wrong. This band needs every one of you and from now on, we make decisions together. If you all want to cancel the show, consider it done.”
Alder met the eyes of his band mates, one at a time. They all wanted to play. The show was in their hometown, and they hadn’t performed here in over a year. But he understood why not a single one of them spoke up.
So he folded his arms over his chest, nodding slowly. “You’ve given us a lot to think about. How about we all head our separate ways, enjoy the rest of our day, and let you know our answer tonight?”
He wouldn’t lie. The way Brave’s jaw ticked as he surveyed the room and saw everyone nodding their agreement brought him a shallow satisfaction. Brave could say they’d make decisions together, but he was used to getting his own way.
If he was really sorry, he’d give them the time they needed.
“Fine.” Brave sighed. “Don’t make it too late though. Cole’s already ripping about the show we canceled yesterday. Another one and he’ll probably quit.”
“Good. That will save us the trouble of firing him.” Alder patted his brother’s shoulder, a half smile on his lips. “A topic for some other time.”
“Fuck you, Alde
r.”
“Yeah, I love you too, Brave.” He headed out, the calm front he’d pulled on out of habit slipping as he reached the sidewalk. His stomach twisted as he considered everything Brave had told him. He braced his hands on the hood of Danica’s car, not sure what he wanted to do more. Puke or punch something.
A hand settled on his back, moving soothingly up and down. Danica slipped between him and the car, lacing her fingers behind his neck and bring his forehead down to touch hers.
“This was good, Alder. Maybe it doesn’t feel like it now, but this was good for you,” she said softly. “For the band.”
“I hope you’re right.” He glanced over at Jesse. “You good?”
Jesse shrugged. “Better?”
His uncertainty reflected Alder’s own. Years of things getting progressively worse couldn’t be fixed in a day, but Brave had made a good first step. He said he wanted things to be different.
They had to give him a chance to prove it.
Chapter Twenty
In the back of the van, where they’d decided to hide out before the show, Danica slouched on the small mattress, her head on Alder’s lap, smiling a little as Jesse rubbed her legs. He’d admitted the shoes she wore on stage freaked him out and asked if her legs got sore.
Might have been a line though, because he was obsessed with the little, red plaid skirt she was wearing.
As his hand moved up her leg, she pressed her thighs together. “If anyone touches my pussy today, they will die a painful death. I’m still sore.”
Jesse gave her a crooked grin. “I’ll be gentle.”
“You and Alder were both gentle this afternoon.”
Leaning over her, Alder sucked lightly on her throat, his hand sliding under her thin white dress shirt. “He could use his mouth. He still needs practice.”
A surge of lust shot down to her core. Damn, that was tempting, but neither of them were satisfied with giving her one orgasm. And by the time they were done with her, her legs would be too shaky to make it across the stage, never mind dance.
It was hard to resist them, with Alder fondling her breast and Jesse taking advantage of her restlessly shifting her thighs. His fingers slid under her panties. He kissed along her inner thigh as he dipped his fingers into her.
He got three nice and wet. But only returned two to her pussy. The other began to penetrate her back hole and she jerked away from him.
“We are not trying that in the back of a van, Jesse.” She threw a pillow at him, making a face when she noticed the crusted sock that had been hiding beneath it. “Eww. Actually, we’re not doing anything in here.”
Alder watched her straighten her skirt and button her shirt, then arched a brow at Jesse. “What did you do?”
“Tried something from a song that I can’t get out of my head.”
“By who?”
Jesse gave Alder a guilty smile. “Steel Panther.”
The sound Alder made was half laugh, half groan. He shook his head. “Try Gun ‘N Roses. Hell, even Nickelback. They won’t give you stupid ideas.”
All right, Danica had no idea what they were going on about. She tried to think of a good suggestion from some of the older bands she’d started listening to. “How about Limp Bizkit?”
Eyes wide, lips parted, both Alder and Jesse stared at her.
“Did she just say what I think she did?” Jesse sounded absolutely horrified. “Because if she mentions them again, she’s not allowed back on the bus.”
He had to be joking. She frowned at him as Alder shook his head, happy at least he didn’t look like she’d broken some serious rule. “What’s wrong with Limp Bizkit?”
“Woodstock ’99. Enough said.” Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t Alder teach you anything?”
She turned to Alder. “Tell me he’s joking?”
“He’s joking.” Alder leaned over and punched Jesse in the shoulder. “He needs to learn to make that more obvious before I decide he’s not allowed back in our bed.”
Rubbing his arm, feigning a wince of pain, Jesse shifted closer to Danica. “No, I wouldn’t actually kick you off the bus. But I do hate that band with a passion.”
“So noted. I promise to never play them on the radio while we’re driving.” Danica rose up on her knees in front of him, kissing him softly. “We can stick to Adele.”
His brow shot up. “Are you joking?”
She patted his cheek and grinned. “Maaay-be.”
“You two are going to drive me insane.” Alder checked the time on his phone, then reached for the back door, throwing it open. “I can’t referee your little fights all the time. Danica, you have to accept that Jesse is an idiot. Jesse, the one thing you need to know about women? They’re always right.”
Taking off her shoe, Danica tossed it at Alder, who ducked out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit.
“Dude, even I know you don’t say shit like that in front of your girl.” Jesse hopped down from the back of the van, retrieving Danica’s shoe for her. He took a knee, right in the snow, and slipped the black and white Mary Jane stiletto onto her bare foot. “At least one of us is a gentleman.”
“Yes, the one who just stuck his finger in her ass without warning.” Alder walked backwards as Jesse helped her down from the van.
Almost backing right into Connor, who burst out laughing, slapping Alder’s shoulder before they collided. “Damn, and I thought you were the boring one of the group. Danica and Jesse? Fucking sweet.”
Danica’s cheeks flamed. She hurried to stand by Alder. “Don’t tell anyone, Connor. So far, I’ve got a colorful, but still somewhat professional image online. If this gets around—”
“I won’t say a thing.” Connor smiled at her, his eyes warming with understanding. “Just make sure Tate doesn’t find out. That kid’s fucking horrible at keeping secrets.”
“Thank you!” She gave him a quick hug. “We better get in. My stylist is sick, so I’m doing my own hair and makeup and—”
“And I’m sorry, hon, but I don’t care.” Connor chuckled, setting her away from him. “You ever want to talk about sex, though, and I’m all ears.”
She was happy he’d stopped her from rambling. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous and excited about tonight. Cuddling with Alder and Jesse had helped her unwind, but Connor overhearing that comment from Alder reminded her that they’d never discussed how they would handle their relationship in public.
As Connor led the way into the back of the venue, Alder curved his arm around her, holding her close. “People can know as much, or as little as you want them to, angel. I’m not sure I’ll ever love the idea of you kissing Brave on stage.” He rubbed her arm when she wrinkled her nose. Damn, she’d forgotten about that. “But what we do out there, and what we do at home, are two different things.”
He and Jesse walked her to the dressing room where she’d left her makeup kit.
Alder turned to Jesse. “Stay with her while she gets ready.”
Jesse started to nod, then frowned. “And who’s gonna keep an eye on you?”
“No one’s after me, Jesse.”
“Yet.” Jesse pulled out his phone, sending out a quick text. “We’ve all got a job to do. You both get to look pretty and entertain the crowd. I do the grunt work and keep you safe.”
“And we appreciate that very much.” Alder backed Jesse into the dressing room, fisting his hand in Jesse’s Winter’s Wrath CREW T-shirt.
Danica licked her lips as she watched them kiss. She’d never get tired of seeing them together. They were gentle with her, most of the time, but with each other? They were so rough she sometimes worried one of them would get hurt.
And that was sexy too, which was messed up.
She jumped at the sound of throat clearing from behind her.
Alder and Jesse jerked apart.
And Skull looked them all over and laughed. “I’ve walked in on worse. Let’s go, Alder.”
“One minute.” Alder grabbed her abruptl
y, covered her mouth with his, and kissed her until her head was spinning. He grinned as he lowered her back to her feet. “All right, now we can go.”
It took her about twenty minutes to get her hair and makeup done. She and Jesse chatted about music—well, he mostly lectured her about real music, but he did have some interesting stories about different bands behind the scenes. Roadies gossiped with other roadies, but if they wanted to keep their jobs, that’s where the secrets stayed.
So the bands he told her about were long disbanded, and she hadn’t heard of most of them, but they all made the members of Winter’s Wrath seem like choirboys in comparison.
Soon it was time to head on stage. Jesse walked her there, a pace behind her, which she hated. But she couldn’t have it both ways. Alder was right. Up here, they worked together. Being lovers at home would have to be enough.
For now.
A familiar song started, which wasn’t one of theirs, but one she—and clearly every member of the crowd—knew well. She grinned as Brave stepped up to the edge of the stage.
“I think you all know this one. Fuck it’s good to be home!”
They played a cover of Don’t Stop Believing, by Journey, and Brave let the crowd sing most of it. By the time they reached the end, the fans were pumped.
The heavy thump of Tate kicking the bass drum lead into the band’s first official song.
Danica licked her lips, peering past the heavy black curtain. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see. More tension with the band? Them messing up because they couldn’t lose themselves to the music anymore?
Whatever she’d feared, as the guitars ripped out the melody and Brave began to sing, Winter’s Wrath gave the crowd everything they always had. And more. They didn’t need gimmicks, or lights, or her out there dancing. They gave their fans what they loved to hear. Music that spoke to them, that made them feel like they weren’t alone in all their pain and rage and passion.
They might not need her, but she was part of this.
And she was going to enjoy every damn minute while it lasted.
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