by Anthology
Simon looked up, muttering “holy fuck,” before dumping his plate as well. The two men hurried across the room, both pulling the new guy into a bear hug. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Nick actually hug anyone before.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you actually came! How the fuck are you doing, man?” Nick clamped a hand on the bald stranger’s shoulder before dragging him back into a hug.
After a few more slaps and raucous laughing, they all came toward her and the food.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Fuck, it’s good to see you.” Nick’s voice was more excited than she’d ever heard. And even for him, the f-bomb was free flowing.
Deacon’s arms were now crossed over his chest and the good cheer was completely missing. Void of all emotion, actually. Instinct had her rounding the table to stand by his side. She tucked her fingers into the cement tight grip he had on himself and drew his arm around her waist. Finally, he sighed and kissed her on the temple. She frowned up at him, but he shook his head subtly. “Snake, meet my—” He cleared his throat. “Meet Harper.”
The trip-up stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Deacon had been throwing around the L-word, and they couldn’t even figure out introductions? She slapped on a smile and held out her hand. “Harper Pruitt. I’m on the staff here.”
Simon popped another sandwich into his mouth. “She’s more than staff. This girl is our goddess chef and Deacon’s main squeeze.”
“Thanks, Simon,” she muttered. Simon shrugged, smirked, and rocked back on his heels, his mouth full of meat and bread.
Snake’s hand was cool to the touch, his palm damp. “Deacon always was a lucky shit.”
Before she could try and put together an answer, Nick jumped in. “Snake called me this afternoon. Out of rehab and looking fine.”
Deacon nodded, rubbing her back lightly, but she couldn’t tell if he was being affectionate or trying to soothe himself. “You look great, man.” Deacon’s voice was cool and achingly polite.
Nick’s eyebrows beetled down briefly before smoothing back to his usual I-don’t-give-a-fuck mask. Harper looked from Nick to Deacon and had the sudden urge to hide in her kitchen.
“I’ll let you guys visit,” Harper began.
Deacon clamped his hand around her hip. “No. I’m good.”
“Okay, but I’m still working.”
Deacon’s face slipped into an easy smile, though it never reached his eyes. “I can steal you away for five minutes, right?”
“Sure.”
Deacon looked over his shoulder at Gray and Jazz, who were speaking quietly to each other, eyes glued to their guest. Tension pulsed in the room, both from the new guy and Nick. Simon seemed oblivious to it, chattering happily at Snake about the shows across the country.
A moment later, Harper was being dragged across the room to the hallway that connected the backstage with a maze of corridors. Deacon made two turns and popped open a side door that led to the catering entrance.
Before she could say a word, his mouth descended on hers. She could still taste the sweat of the stage on his lips and skin. Stage sweat was different from his workouts. It was distilled Deacon. Cool ocean breezes with an icy front behind it.
He hauled her up until her arms were around his shoulders and her feet dangled from the floor. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was rough and vibrating with frustration. For once she was pretty sure it wasn’t her that was bringing it out of him.
Instead of feeding into it like she normally would—God, Deacon on the edge was irresistible—she forced her brain to engage and gentled her fingers into his damp hair before lightly raking her nails along his scalp. His shoulders were stiff as boulders, and his lips were almost careless which definitely wasn’t Deacon.
She tore her mouth away from his and pressed her cheek to his. “Shh, big guy, just hold onto me.” His rock-solid body eased by degrees. His breathing was harsh, and his grip finally lessened around her ribs. “That’s it. There we go.”
He gently lowered her to the ground, until her cheek was pressed against his chest. His heart raced, but his breathing finally slowed. He looped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight.
“Gonna let me in on the freak out?”
He rubbed his chin on top of her head. “Do you know about Snake?”
“Not really.”
“He’s our ex-drummer.”
“Oh.” She tried to remember what she’d read that first day she’d met Deacon, but she was pretty sure another drummer hadn’t been mentioned in her quick Wiki search. “I guess it wasn’t a smooth exit?”
“More like handcuffs and a forced stint in rehab.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
She could hear the pain and regret in his voice. With her hands around his waist and her fingers under the damp cotton, she took slow, even breaths to trigger him to do the same. “How long?” she asked quietly.
Deacon sighed. “He must’ve gotten out a few weeks ago. I’ve lost count. Before Jazz and Gray joined the band, we were counting down the days. We weren’t even allowed to talk to him when he was in. We had to talk to him through his mother, and let’s just say she not the most reliable person.”
She pulled back. “He knows he’s been replaced, right?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “We were clear on that.”
The hesitation waved a big red flag in her face. “Nothing was left unsaid?”
Deacon slipped away from her. “A lot of shit was left unsaid.”
She tucked her hands into her apron pockets. Deacon was no angel, but he rarely swore in front of her, and never with a bite in his voice. “And?”
He turned away and jammed his fingers into his hair, lacing them at the back of his head. “It’s not important.”
“Oh, I bet it is.”
“Leave it, Harper.”
She took a step back. His harsh voice tripped a switch inside her. She turned back to the doorway, pain a hot ball in her throat. He was hurting and obviously didn’t want to talk. He’d wanted her to distract him. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and fisted them at her sides.
That’s all they were supposed to be. Good sex and a way to pass the time. It was what she wanted. And given a little more time, Deacon would come to realize that, too.
This wasn’t any of her business. And this was the perfect time to walk away before they got any more invested. Before he said that freaking four letter word again. She wasn’t sure she could take that again. She turned to him, and the ball in her throat doubled in size.
In the dim glow from the security lights, she saw his knuckles go white with how hard he was holding on.
“Dammit,” she muttered and strode over to him, ducking under his arm. “Tell me the rest.”
His green eyes blazed with anger and worry. A rare pride lit his face making his chin tilt up.
She poked him in the center of his chest. “Taking a swing at someone when you go back in, that’s better than telling me? Because with all that anger bottling up, you’re going to do something dumb.”
“I don’t do that,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, really? I think I remember patching you up after a fight recently.”
“They came at me first.”
“Right. And Snake’s not coming for your family right now? Do I look dumb? Isn’t that what you’re worried about?”
His jaw relaxed slightly. “I—”
She drove her fist into his belly. “Ow, dammit.” She shook out her hand.
He looked down at her with a single raised brow. “You don’t want me to hit anyone, but it’s okay if you do?”
“I can’t reach your hard head.”
His lips twitched, and he lowered his face to hers. “Better?”
She cupped his face, coasting her thumbs over the prominent cheekbones and down to the hair shadowing his jawline. Prickly and yet soft, she let the rasp of his beard ground her. “Tell me.”
Anger and
tension slipped out of him like water. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to believe he’s here to visit. I really do.”
The ball eased in her, too. She hated to see him upset, that was all. “But you don’t.”
He sighed and straightened up, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bailed him out, and he’s promised to change. Promised to do better. A day later, he’s back at the dealer.” He hauled her close, lifting a hand to play with her braid.
“You have Jazz now. And Gray.”
“I know. And we wouldn’t be where we are now without them. I just don’t know if Nick and Simon will remember that now that Snake seems better. I just can’t trust that he’ll stay that way.” He slid his fingers into her hair. “I know it.”
“It could be different.”
“He’s no different than my mother. He’ll just charm his way back in, and then he’ll leave disaster in his wake when things get tough, and they will. You know this business. He just wants back in because we’re on top.”
Ah, there it was. She tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “Snake didn’t do so well when you had to fight to play?” And his mother? God, she wanted to ask, but now wasn’t the time. She’d already been gone from her post for too long.
“When we didn’t have a gig more than twice a month, he’d disappear from practice, he’d steal from what little petty cash we had at the apartment. He’d steal from me.”
“For drugs,” she finished.
“He wasn’t picky. Whatever he could get his hands on would do.”
She sighed. “Surely, the rest of them know this.”
“Of course, they do. But Nick and Simon have known him since high school, Harper.”
“And he’s family.”
Deacon nodded. “He was family.”
Was. Deacon had already distanced himself from Snake. But what about the rest of his friends? She stepped back enough that she could drag him down to her again. She laid a soft kiss on his mouth. “Then we watch out for Simon and Nick.”
“We?”
“Yeah, we.”
He grinned and came back in for a whole different kind of kiss. This one was sweet, intense and playful. “We.”
“Don’t get too excited, big guy. I’m only helping out because you give good orgasms.” His smile didn’t falter. In fact, it got bigger, the freaking idiot.
“Right. I forgot.”
She shook her head, caged her hand around his smug mug, and pushed him back. “I gotta work.”
He laughed and bent forward, tossing her over his shoulder.
“Deacon!”
He slapped her ass. “Quiet, Lawless. I’m just getting you back to work faster, that’s all.”
Since dignity had evidently left the building, she let her arms fall straight down his back. And because his very fine ass was there, she gave him a slap right back.
* * *
Before Deacon walked through the door to their after-show area, he let Harper down. He smiled down at her. Smudged lips and a crooked braid told a more intriguing story than what had actually happened outside.
He hadn’t known he’d needed to talk it out until she’d pushed. Actually, he’d never had anyone to talk to before. The only discussions he ever had with his bandmates were after a blow up, and usually ended in bruises or blood. Harper’s way worked a helluva lot better.
He tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Harper might not be quick to jump on the love train, but he knew she cared about him. And that was enough for now.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
He laughed and cupped her face, mirroring the soft kiss she’d given him only moments before. As usual, she went up on her toes and clamped her fingers around his wrists.
She was fighting how in-tune they were, but it was a lot easier to enjoy Harper than to try and force a label on her. The problem was, he only had a few days to convince her that they shouldn’t go their separate ways after the tour ended.
So the only way he could show her was by touch. Cognizant of the people milling around and her fellow employees scrambling nearby, he managed to keep the kiss light. Barely.
Every single time he touched her, the sense of belonging strengthened. They were like layers in a song he’d never hoped to create. Words were only one part of them. The harmony of their bodies moving together, the underlying melody of humor and rightness he felt around her, it all made up a composition he’d happily give a lifetime to figure out.
She was his ultimate song that would never have an end.
When he finally managed to stop kissing her, it ended in a smile. Her eyes were still closed, and she’d pressed her lips together. She slowly blinked those summer blue eyes open, and all the words he wanted to say crashed against his teeth.
Holding them back killed him.
He wanted to shout to everyone in earshot that he loved this woman. Instead, he gathered her in for one more hug. Not trusting that he’d let her go if he kissed her again, he stepped back. “We’re heading to the penthouse tonight. Come with me?”
Her eyes went wide. “To your place?”
He tilted his head side to side. “Well, our place. But I have my own room. That has a door. And a king-sized bed.”
She clutched his fingers. “You had me at door.”
He laughed and pulled her into the after-show room. “A night or two of privacy sounds awesome, right?”
“Yeah.”
Deacon turned around, walking backwards as he twisted his fingers with hers. “Don’t go there, Harper. This isn’t the end.”
She pressed her lips together again, but this time it didn’t look like she was savoring.
“Deak?”
Harper’s eyes shuttered, and she looked at the floor as Jazz came up beside them. She flicked a look at Jazz, and her face changed again. “Jazz, are you okay?”
“No.”
Deacon let out an oof as Jazz slammed into his chest, her arms slipping around his waist. “Hey,” he said gently and smoothed his hand down her single ponytail. “Tell me what I can do.”
“I’ll let you guys talk.”
Jazz peered up at him and Harper. “Oh, wait. Did I interrupt a thing? I’m sorry.” Her violet eyes filled and fat tears dripped down her cheeks.
“No, no. That’s okay. We have all night to talk,” Harper said hurriedly. Deacon fought a smile at the acute panic on Harper’s face. She’d handled Jazz just fine when he’d been in the fight with Johnny and Killian, but give her an emotional Jazz without a crisis to fix, and his girl was ready to run.
“Are you sure?” Jazz asked, burying her face in his chest.
“Yes, definitely.” Harper squeezed his hand then practically flew across the room to her cart and food.
“What’s up, Pix?”
Jazz peeked around him to look at the couch. Deacon turned them both around to find Snake, Simon, and Nick sprawled on the couch talking like it hadn’t been six months since they’d seen each other. Beer bottles dangled from their fingers and laughter filled the room.
Gray had disappeared—shocker—and they’d completely left Jazz out. Son of a bitch. He shouldn’t have left her alone. “They’re just happy to see Snake. It’s been a long time, Jazz.”
“I know. And I get that, seriously I do. But he just sat down, and they started talking about old times, about the songs they wrote—songs that I play better than he ever did, dammit.” She swiped at the tears that dripped down her chin, making a growling sound. “And I’m crying like a fucking girl. Like they hurt my feelings or some shit.”
He swiped a hand down her tail again. They had hurt her feelings, but Jazz was a tough one, and he certainly wasn’t going to call her on it. “Snake is the past, Jazz. You’re our drummer now. And you’re right,” he said on a low murmur. “You play the fuck out of all of the songs and are a damn good writer. This,” he nodded toward the couch, “is just a jog down memory lane.”
“Tell them that. Snake’
s been invited back to the penthouse.”
Deacon frowned. He should have seen it coming, but he’d wanted to believe a visit would be all they needed. Uneasiness coated his skin like a rash. He didn’t want Snake to know where the penthouse was.
Irrational or not, it was the truth. The apartment was only partially theirs. Artwork and electronics packed the walls. Thousands of dollars that they couldn’t afford to pay for.
The album was doing well, but the advance they’d gotten for the EP had to be split five ways. Of course, that was after expenses. It was still more money than any of them had ever had, but they were by no means rich.
“Where’s Gray?”
Jazz shrugged. “He got a text and said some friends from his old job wanted to see him.”
“I didn’t realize he still talked to them.”
She sniffed and wiped the last of her tears away. “Me neither.”
Deacon gave her shoulder a squeeze and moved them both over to the couch. Jazz gave a token resistance, but followed him. “How’s it going?”
Nick looked up at him. A light he hadn’t seen in a very long time flashed in his eyes. “Just catching up. He looks great, right?”
Deacon’s eyes tracked to the table full of beer bottles and finally to the one resting on Snake’s buckle.
Snake took a long swallow. “Saint Deacon doesn’t think I should be drinking, boys.”
Deacon shrugged. “You did just leave rehab.”
“Alcohol was never my problem, brother.”
“Was never your friend, either.”
Nick stood, draining his beer. “Don’t give him shit, Deak. We’re having a good time and we don’t need the Boy Scout ruining it, as usual.”
Jazz stiffened next to him. He rubbed her back absently and ignored the bear trap Nick tossed at his feet. “I hear you’re coming back to the penthouse.”
Nick lifted his beer in a mock toast. “What? Jazzercise come and tattle on us?”
“Shut up, Nicky,” Jazz snapped.
“Did she bat those big…what are they today? Blue? No, purple. Those big ole violet eyes up at you and say we were causing trouble?”
“Fuck off,” she said with a step forward. “You want to act all big and tough because your friend is here, then go ahead without me. I’m not in the mood for asshole Nick tonight. We’re supposed to be celebrating as a band.”