Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2)

by Jayne Frost

  “I’m fine,” she hissed. “My health is none of your concern.”

  Eyes blazing, he leaned forward. “That’s where you're wrong. In case you forgot, this whole damn project centers around diabetes research. The management of your disease is of great concern to the group.”

  “Condition,” Mel snarled. “It’s a condition.”

  “No, it’s not.” Plucking a book from the reference pile, Mitchell flung the text across the table. “Look it up. Diabetes is a disease. And your lifestyle changes of late are taking a toll.” His gaze swung to the other members of the team, before settling on Mel. “Everyone can see it.”

  A chair scraped the concrete floor as Brent, one of the undergraduates, pushed to his feet.

  “It’s been a long night and I’m not up for another debate on this subject,” he said wearily. “I’m out of here.” Hoisting his backpack over his shoulder, he lifted his chin to me. “Nice to see you again, Christian. Night y’all.”

  Mel watched as the rest of the group gathered their things, making similar excuses. She jolted when Mitchell slammed his book shut.

  “See what I mean?” He shoved his files and textbooks into his backpack. “People are starting to question your commitment. You’re not yourself. You’ve got a real shot at being published. You’d better think long and hard before you throw it all away,” his hard gaze shifted to me, “over nothing.”

  Since I was the “nothing” the bastard was referring to, I slowly rose from my chair. I towered over the little prick by at least four inches, but Mitchell didn’t back down. Impressive, but it wouldn’t keep me from pounding his ass into the hardwood floor.

  “Listen, dude,” I growled. “You don’t know—”

  Mel gripped my arm tightly. “Sit down, Christian.” She looked up at me, eyes beseeching. “You don’t understand.”

  Fists clenched at my sides, I dropped back in my seat, leveling my fiercest glower at Mitchell. Anywhere else and the dude would be eating pavement. But I had respect for the library. And even more respect for Mel.

  “Keep it civil, dude,” I warned. “You don’t want to mix it up with me. Believe.”

  The little twerp turned his attention to Mel. They locked gazes in a silent power struggle and to my utter amazement, Mel blinked first.

  “I’m not throwing anything away, Mitch,” she said with a little more conciliation than I was comfortable with. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. We’ve got less than a month left until graduation. I’ve worked my ass off for years. My studies have always come first.”

  Mitchell honed in on her hand, still resting on my bicep.

  “There’s still work to be done, Melody. You’re the one that’s interested in pursuing other research at UT. The extra credit stuff will go a long way toward getting the grant for—”

  “Don’t worry about my future Mitch.” The old Mel was back, irritation lacing her tone. “Worry about your own.”

  He gripped his travel mug so tight his knuckles lost color. “Fine. I’ll do that.”

  Frowning, she watched his retreating back as he stalked away.

  I resisted the urge to follow Mitchell and pummel him into the pavement for speaking to Mel like that. The two obviously had history, shared goals that I knew nothing about. I wouldn’t fuck that up by beating the douchebag senseless. Though I really, really wanted to.

  “That guy needs a lesson in manners,” I remarked as I helped Mel collect her notes. “He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass.”

  She crammed the papers into her backpack before hoisting the strap over her shoulder.

  “Drop it, Christian.” A weary sigh fell from her lips. “I’ve known Mitchell for a long time. He’s a valuable member of my team. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Irritated, I slipped the heavy pack off her arm. “Your place or mine?”

  Yanking her sweatshirt from the back of the chair, she wrapped her arms around her middle and then took a step back.

  “Neither,” she said quietly, looking down at her toes. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I think we should call it a night.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fumbling with the strings on my bass, I winced as the sour note bounced off the walls in our rehearsal space. Logan slammed his microphone into the stand, then turned a murderous glare in my direction.

  “What the fuck is up with you, Christian?” Gripping his blond hair in frustration, he paced in a circle. “It’s a simple fucking chord change.”

  “Give it a rest, Logan,” Cameron said with a sigh as he yanked the chord from his Fender.

  Feedback screeched from the amp, drowning out Logan’s retort as Cameron stalked to the row of guitar stands to stow his instrument.

  “You owe me one,” he said, bumping my shoulder on his way to the mismatched couches in the corner.

  Cameron’s phone was out and he was already tapping the screen before his ass hit the cushions so I doubt whether his motives were completely pure.

  Sean climbed down from his drum kit and stretched his legs. “Thank fuck,” he grunted, eyeing Logan on his way to the fridge. “What’s with the three hour practices, anyway?”

  Logan’s piercing blue eyes burned with barely contained agitation as he watched Sean take a seat next to Cameron. When he cut his gaze to me, I saw something more.

  Guilt.

  Six months ago, Logan personally kicked our manager to the curb while we were in Dallas playing a rock festival. Lindsey Barger, the bitch the record label handpicked for us was a lot of things. Stupid wasn’t one of them.

  Before we’d even returned to Austin, Lindsey was back in Los Angeles, waging a private war against the band. Labeling us “divas” and “hard to handle,” she continued to badmouth us at every turn. As a result, our label was dragging their feet on renewing our contract. And without a contract there was no new material to promote, so we were stuck. Right back on Sixth Street, playing at The Parish where we started.

  Things weren’t critical—yet—we had two singles hanging by their fingernails on the Billboard 200.

  But if we didn’t set something up soon…

  Some of the angst retreated from Logan’s posture as he flopped onto a chair next to the one I’d staked out across from the couch.

  “Y’all know I’m trying to set up an audition with Twin Souls, but they’re not returning my calls,” Logan admitted as he twisted the cap off his bottle of Shiner Bock. “I want to be ready when they do. That means we got to stay tight.” He swung his gaze to mine and I shrank in my seat. “Focused.”

  “You haven’t heard anything yet,” I said through a sigh.

  Logan blue eyes shot daggers straight at my forehead. “You think if the biggest management company in the business gave me a jingle I’d keep that shit under wraps?” He turned to stare into the distance, nodding to himself. “They’ll call,” he insisted, lifting the bottle to his lips to take a large gulp of beer. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  I wanted to find the will to care, but right now I was too fucking irritated. And it had nothing to do with the band, which annoyed me even more. Here we were, talking about major shit that impacted my future, all of our futures, and I was losing sleep because I hadn’t seen Mel in two days.

  After our dustup with Mitchell at the library, she’d backed off on our nightly encounters. She told me she needed to buckle down and study, so I left her alone.

  Fishing my phone from my pocket, I threw caution to the wind and then tapped out a text to Mel.

  You know what they say about all work and no play? Hit me back when you’re ready to play.

  I shook my head, deleting the message. Cheesy wasn’t the way to go.

  Gazing at the blank screen for a long moment, I finally punched in: Miss you, angel. Finishing off the text with a smiley face emoji, which I never used, I pressed send.

  When Cameron chuckled low in his gut, I discreetly set my phone aside.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

 
Cameron drained his beer and then pointed the neck of the bottle in my direction.

  “You are.” He chuckled again, with more gusto. “I know that look, man. Who is she?”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I went for casual. “There is no “she.” Just because you were bitten by the bug doesn’t mean we’re all going to catch it.”

  “You’d be lucky to catch what I’ve got.” Cameron socked me in the arm on his way to grab another beer.

  He was totally serious—whipped like a dog, and proud of it. He didn’t even bat an eyelash when Logan and Sean started in, needling him about his newfound domesticity.

  Cameron was never the player Logan was, but he was a close second. He left a string of broken hearts in every city we visited, until he met Lily Tennison during our ill-fated concert stop in Dallas.

  Ignoring Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, I twisted in my chair to meet Cameron’s Zen-like gaze. “All of a sudden you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” I snorted. “You meet a chick and three days later you’re a changed man—is that how it goes?”

  “It was four days, but it don’t matter.” Cameron shrugged, reclaiming his seat. “When you know, you know.”

  “It’s only been a few months,” I responded, unable to keep the skepticism from my tone. “Let’s see how Lily handles it the first time you have to pick up and leave for a year. Without ”

  Cameron’s hazel eyes turned cold enough to chill the air between us. “Lily’s here to stay. She ain’t with me because of all this shit.” He motioned to the small stage and all our abandoned equipment. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m home or in fucking Brazil, she ain’t going no where.”

  I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I barked out a laugh. “I hope you’re right. Since Lily’s got your balls in her pocket, it would be awfully inconvenient if she disappeared.”

  A confident smile eased onto Cameron’s lips. “Not going to happen.”

  I frowned at the unanswered text and let out a resigned sigh. “Well, Mel’s not Lily.”

  I jerked my gaze to Logan’s when a belly laugh erupted from his chest.

  “So you’re batting for the other team now?” he chided. “When did you start dating dudes? Does Mel have a cute sister you can set me up with?”

  “I’ve seen some of the chicks that stumble out of your bunk on the tour bus,” I replied blandly. “Maybe you should think about expanding your dating pool.”

  Choking on his beer, Logan’s eyes bugged out.

  “I love all women, Wikipedia,” he said through a cough. “Don’t judge. Especially since you’re dating a dude.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not dating a dude.” Seizing my phone from the arm of the chair, I pulled up a picture of Mel and then shook it at Logan. “Does this look like a dude to you?”

  Logan smirk faded as he peered at the screen. “No, that’s definitely not a dude.”

  Grabbing the device before I could stop him, Logan tapped the screen to enlarge the image.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?” I snarled. “Give me the damn phone!”

  Batting my hand away, a smile tilted his lips. I knew that look; he was checking out her tits.

  “Chill, man.” After one more appreciative glance at Mel’s photo, Logan tossed the phone at me. “I was just looking for the scar on her head.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the asshat’s stupid grin. “She doesn’t have any scars on her head, you moron.”

  Shrugging, Logan propped his feet on the table, his smirk firmly in place. “A chick like that’s got to have some kind of defect if she’s hanging out with you.”

  As I stared at the photo on the screen, the picture morphed into an image of Mel on the floor of her bedroom, shaking in a pool of sweat.

  “Melody’s not defective,” I said quietly. “She’s fucking brilliant, and she’s perfect.”

  Silence blanketed the room. The awkward kind. Logan no longer smiled, but surveyed me with a blank expression that matched Cameron and Sean’s.

  “So, when do we get to meet this perfect woman?” Cameron asked, snapping the tension filling the air.

  I was about to answer when my phone lit up with a text from Mel.

  Miss you too. Come over after practice if you can.

  The knot in my stomach unwound as I tapped out my reply.

  On my way.

  Jumping to my feet, I scooped my backpack from the floor. “Gotta jet. See y’all later.”

  Much later, I hoped. I owed Mel at least four orgasms, and I wasn’t planning on letting her out of bed until I settled the debt.

  “You didn’t answer Cam’s question,” Logan called as I headed to the door. “When do we get to meet your imaginary girlfriend?”

  Girlfriend?

  I didn’t have time to argue the semantics.

  “Soon.”

  Chapter Nine

  My boots barely skimmed the concrete as I raced up the stairs to Mel’s apartment. Since I didn’t want Mel to know I was racing, I slowed my pace when I reached the landing. All my joy evaporated on the spot when she didn’t answer the door.

  Gripping the knob, the brass handle turned in my hand. What the hell—an unlocked door in this neighborhood?

  “Mel?” My stomach fell as I entered the dark, silent living room. “Melody…”

  No response.

  Adrenaline surged as I chewed up the worn carpeting in four or five strides. As I stormed into the bedroom, I met Mel’s sweet smile. Propped against a heap of fluffy pillows, the skin on her bare shoulders picked up the glow from the candles strategically placed throughout the room.

  “I’m right here,” she said, letting the sheet fall to expose her breasts. “But I couldn’t answer the door because I’m… you know…naked.”

  Overcome by the scent of autumn leaves and cinnamon, my wobbly legs carried me to the bed. To Melody—happy and healthy—and from the looks of it, ready to play.

  Easing onto the mattress, I let out the breath I’d been holding.

  “I thought...” Shaking the doomsday scenario from my head, I forced a smile. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. How’s it going, angel?”

  Mel sat up, her grin losing a little luster with each second that ticked by.

  When there was nothing left but the tiniest hint of a smile, she inhaled deeply and then asked, “Do you know how many people in the United States have diabetes, Christian?”

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I drew a blank. “Not exactly.”

  But I did know. To the exact number. I was just too wound up to pluck it from my thoughts.

  Mel nodded slowly. “Let’s find out.”

  Crawling over me to grab her phone from the nightstand, the sheet slid further, revealing her perfect ass.

  Draped over my lap, Melody hummed as she scrolled through her phone, her fingers in no particular hurry.

  Forgetting the question, and my own name, I slid my palm from her thigh to the curve of her ass. “Fuck, baby, you look…”

  “Twenty-nine million people, give or take.” Triumphant, Mel pushed upright, straddling me.

  My hands reflexively shot to her tits. “What?”

  Gripping my jaw, Mel lifted my face to meet her gaze. “I said: twenty-nine million people in this country have diabetes.”

  I’m sure this was an important discussion, but right now, intellectual Mel wasn’t who I wanted. Reversing our positions, I pressed her into the mattress.

  “Good to know.” Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I inhaled her sweet scent as I nibbled my way to her ear. “God, you smell good.”

  Exasperated, she drove her knuckles into my pecs. “Listen to me, Christian,” she pleaded. “It’s important.”

  Propping on my elbows, I peered down at her. Playful Melody had definitely left the building.

  “What is it?”

  Her brows drew together. “Do you think those people have friends?” Rolling her eyes when I didn’t respond, she snapped, “The dia
betics? Do you think they have friends? Do you think they go to college—have lives? Kids even?”

  Scrutinizing her furrowed brow, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Of course they do.” I leaned in to kiss her but she turned her head. Unease warred with the desire slithering through my body as I gazed at her profile. “Mel, what’s going on?”

  “Do you care for me, Christian?”

  She winced as the question tripped from her lips, her eyes never leaving the wall.

  “Yes.”

  The answer spilled out before I had the chance to think about it. Because it was true. I did care about Mel.

  She turned to me, hurt deepening the jade-green hue of her irises. “Then stop treating me like I’m some kind of broken toy. It’s exhausting. And at some point, that’s all you’re going to see. The broken part.” Tapping her chest, her voice cracked. “I’m not broken.”

  Regret washed over me for making her feel…whatever way I’d made her feel.

  Resting my forehead against hers, I pressed a kiss to her bottom lip. “I don’t think you’re broken, angel.” Another kiss. “You’re far from broken.”

  Mel slipped her arms around my neck, her fingers twisting in my hair. “Then stop treating me like I’m made of glass and show me.” She wrapped her legs around my waist. “Show me right now.”

  “Be careful, angel.” I smiled, rocking against her. “I said you weren’t broken. Not that I wouldn’t break you.”

  Mel’s eyes lit up, like I’d given her a gift. “You can try.”

  “I think we both know what happened the last time you doubted me.”

  The heaviness in my chest lifted as I claimed her mouth. I knew in my gut there was more we should discuss. Whatever I’d done, I surely didn’t want to repeat it. But right now, the need flaring in my belly was all consuming. The need to possess her. To protect her. To bury myself so deep in her body, she’d never go two days again without craving me.

  I chided myself for the crazy inner dialogue.

  Who knows where we’d be in two days, or two weeks?