Fall with Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 2)

by Jayne Frost

  Chapter Fifteen

  As I waited in the dressing room for the rest of the band, I gingerly opened the white envelope with the burnt orange seal in the corner. In the seven days since Mel had walked out of my life, I’d avoided anything that might disrupt the scab on the wound she left behind.

  Since I’d also given up checking my email, going to the library, and showering unless completely necessary, I didn’t find the invitation for her graduation until this morning.

  The event was taking place tonight at the Erwin Center, but I already knew that.

  Pulling the heavy parchment from the envelope, I ran a finger over the embossed school seal featured proudly at the bottom.

  The cushions sank under Cameron’s weight as he plopped on the couch next to me.

  “What’s that?” He propped his feet on the worn table before snatching the invitation from my grasp. Glancing over the loopy inscription, he smiled. “Impressive. Does this mean you’re going?”

  “We’re not seeing each other anymore,” I snapped, plucking the card from his hand. “Why the hell would I go?”

  “Dude, stop being so defensive. I just thought you were into the chick. My bad.”

  “I was.” I am. “She’s the one that broke it off.”

  “That’s probably the best thing,” he eyed me suspiciously, “since you let her.”

  Sliding a hand through my greasy hair, I gripped the strands at the base of my neck. “I didn’t ‘let her’ do anything. If a girl wants to jet, it’s her choice.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, bro.” Cameron chuckled. “We’ll see how it works out for you.”

  It took all my restraint not to wring his neck. A few months ago, Cameron would’ve been urging me to join him at a strip club to get over this little bump in the road. Not encouraging me to prolong the agony.

  “Let me ask you something, Dr. Phil,” I said dryly. “Have you ever thought about what’s going to happen when something goes south with Lily?”

  The motherfucker chuckled. He actually laughed.

  “When? That’s mighty cynical.” He patted my knee. “But, no, I don’t think about that. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Today—it’s not going to happen today.”

  I shook my head. Reasoning with people like Cameron never got me very far, but hey, I was willing to try.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I let out a sigh and then began, “Over fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. And I’d venture to say the other fifty percent are just like my parents. They stay together out of habit. We’re not even talking about people just casually dating, so—”

  “Is that what y’all were…casual?” Cameron cocked his head, truly interested in my response.

  Mel and I spent every day together. Casual wasn’t a word I’d use. “No, we weren’t casual, but—”

  “‘But’ nothing.” His hazel eyes darkened with irritation. “I’ve heard all your statistics and bullshit theories.” I raised a brow and he softened. “Let’s say it’s all true. Every word of it. I still want you to think about one thing.”

  Tapping down my exasperation, I waited for whatever inane argument Cameron was about to make.

  “Have you ever thought about how many bands out there—good bands—struggle to get a song on the charts?” he asked, a smug smile curving his lips. “Millions.”

  Rolling my eyes, I wondered where the train went off the tracks.

  “What’s your fucking point, Cameron?”

  Please, God, let there be one.

  “We did it.” Gazing around at the framed magazine covers and other accolades, Cameron shrugged, and then turned that smug smile back in my direction. “That one in a million thing? Ain’t no step for a stepper. You just gotta believe.”

  Some of Lily’s brainpower must’ve rubbed off on the dude, because he was actually making sense. Either that, or I was grasping at straws.

  When Cameron arched a brow, waiting for my response, I conceded, “Well, yeah, I guess we did.”

  “So if that’s the case,” he continued, settling back against the cushions. “What makes you so fucking sure you can’t make a go of it with Mel?”

  “I didn’t say we couldn’t make it. I said the odds—”

  Cameron rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What the fuck do the odds have to do with it? Even if the odds were ninety percent that Lily and me would blow up, I’d take the bet. You know why?” I shook my head, even though I suspected I already knew what he was going to say. “Because one day with Lily is worth the price. Even if you told me there were a thousand days of misery in my future, I’d take those twenty-four hours.”

  I blanched inwardly when I thought about the last seven days. If I had to endure a thousand more, I wouldn’t make it.

  “That’s you,” I said quietly. “This time next month, I won’t even remember what she looked like.”

  Cameron studied my lying face for a moment before slowly rising from his seat. “Well, there you go.” He leaned down to pat my shoulder, a smirk tilting his lips. “What’s her name is obviously not the right chick for you or it wouldn’t be that easy.”

  “Her name is Melody,” I grumbled. “And there is no ‘right chick’ for anyone.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  With a skeptical eye, I watched Cameron stroll to the fridge, looking for any chinks in his armor. Any sign that he was fooling himself. I mean, the guy used to bang groupies two at a time and party his face off until dawn almost every night.

  “Do you miss it?” I blurted, regretting the question when he spun around with that carefree smile.

  “Miss what?”

  “Everything. The parties, the clubs.” I raised a brow. “The threesomes.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Have you seen my girl? Fuck, dude, there’s nothing to miss. I got it all.”

  Closing my eyes I let my head fall to the back of the couch. Cameron reclaimed his seat and then knocked me with his elbow. “You want some Chinese? I’m placing an order.”

  My stomach turned at the thought of food. “I’m good.”

  And now I was flat out lying. I wasn’t close to being good. I hadn’t had an hour of good in seven days.

  The door swung open and I threw my arm over my face, hoping whoever it was would leave me alone until rehearsal.

  I jerked, my eyes popping open when a boot met my shin.

  Chase Noble, Cameron’s brother, stood over us, glaring. I’m assuming from the way Cameron was rubbing his leg, his shin got the same treatment.

  “This place gets filthier every time I come in here,” Chase complained. “The cleaning crew is starting to complain. Get off your asses and grab a trashcan.”

  Since Chase owned the club, and was technically our boss, his look of reproach should’ve carried more weight. But I’d known the guy since I was fifteen.

  Reluctantly, Cameron and I pushed to our feet and began to tidy up, while Chase took a seat at the desk in the corner.

  “Did the band ever agree on which charity they wanted to sponsor for the Christmas event?” he asked offhandedly as he sorted through some mail.

  Cameron examined the contents of a pizza box, grimacing. “Just so it’s not breast cancer again. We don’t need to give Logan another opportunity to provide his ‘free examinations.’”

  Chase leaned back in the rickety chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle.

  “We raised fifty grand that night,” he said, leveling a wry smile in Cameron’s direction. “And those ‘exams’ Logan offered? They weren’t free. The women all contributed a sizable donation to participate.”

  Cameron wrinkled his nose. “So you don’t care if Logan gropes women for a money?”

  Chase laughed. “Before Lily, you fondled plenty of women. And the only cause you were worried about was your own. Logan’s idea was actually—”

  “Totally self-serving,” Cameron retorted.

  While the brothers debated the merit of Logan’s fundraising abilities, I am
bled over to the desk. Picking up the flyer, I scanned the list of charities, my eyes flickering over the seal for the American Diabetes Association.

  I nudged the chair to get Chase’s attention. “Does the charity have to be on this list?”

  “No. Those are just a few of the more reputable organizations.” He laced his fingers behind his head, appraising me. “Why? You got something better in mind?”

  “I might.” I folded the flyer and then tucked it away in my back pocket. “How long did you say we have to decide?

  “A couple days, give or take.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Grabbing my backpack, I headed for the door. “Don’t commit to anything before I get back to you.”

  In the parking lot, I slid behind the wheel of my truck and then pulled out my phone. I scrolled through the list of contacts from Mel’s study group, frowning when I came upon the name I was looking for.

  My finger hovered over the text icon, but instead, I swallowed my pride and placed the call.

  “Mitchell, this is Christian.” Without waiting for a reply, I added, “Don’t hang up. I need to talk to you about a fundraising event.”

  Standing in the shadows in the back of the Erwin Center, I waited for an hour while graduates walked the stage to collect their diplomas.

  When the dean got to the “S’s,” I made my way down the outer aisle, heading for the tiny figure in the wheelchair two rows from the front.

  As each name echoed in the auditorium, a chorus of cheers resounded from the audience. My heart sank when I knelt beside Mel’s nana and saw the look of anticipation in her eyes, knowing she couldn’t voice her pride.

  “Mo.” I tapped her shoulder. “It’s Christian, Melody’s friend.” I maneuvered in front of her, careful not to block the stage. Though her face bore no emotion, the smile in her eyes warmed my insides. “Look, I just wanted to—”

  The woman seated to Mo’s right leaned forward, her features cloaked under the dim lights. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m a friend of Melody’s.” I took a small blue box from the pocket of my jacket. “I’m just here to drop off a gift. It’s actually from Mo. I picked it out, though.”

  “And you are?” Curiosity piqued the woman’s tone.

  “Christian.” I smiled tightly at the couple in front of us who’d twisted in their seat to offer me an admonishing glare. “I’m not staying.”

  I gave the caregiver a polite nod before placing the tiny box on the blanket covering Mo’s lap. “Give this to Mel for me, will you?”

  Mo’s green eyes locked on mine, and she blinked twice. I patted her hand as I stood.

  My feet grew roots when I caught sight of Mel on the stage in her cap and gown.

  I thought of holding my ground, standing proud so she’d know I was there.

  Instead, I shrank against the wall and held my breath. Hearing her name, I let out a whoop and clapped loud enough to drown out the smattering of perfunctory applause from the strangers.

  Mel took her diploma, her gaze flitting over the crowd.

  I’m here, angel.

  She didn’t notice me lurking, but the brilliant smile that lit her face when she found her nana was worth the price of admission, even though I could feel my chest constricting with every breath. It was like she was stealing my air; tucking it away with everything else she took when she left.

  Still, I took a moment to watch as Melody glided down the steps. When she took her seat, I lost her in the sea of burnt orange caps. So I turned on my heel and powered toward the exit, chased away by the scent of autumn that was sure to engulf me if I waited a second longer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The crowd at The Parish roared so loud I didn’t hear Logan’s footsteps until he patted me on the back.

  “They’re turning people away at the door.” He peeked around the curtain. “I think if we pack one more body in this place the fire marshal will shut us down.”

  “It’s a great turnout,” I agreed. “Any idea how much money we raised?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “But Chase offered to match the amount, and he’s throwing in all the liquor sales to boot.”

  Sean sauntered up, twirling his timeworn drumsticks with Cameron at his heels.

  “Leave it to you to wear a ribbon instead of a bracelet,” Sean joked, flicking the green and blue satin strip pinned to my t-shirt. “Next time, you should tie it in your hair.”

  The guys proudly sported the “Cure PSP” plastic bracelets that we were giving out at the door.

  But not me. The skin on my wrist was too raw from my freshly minted tattoo.

  Picking up my bass, I slipped the strap over my shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a trendsetter.”

  Shifting from foot to foot, adrenaline surged through my veins as we waited for our cue.

  When the house lights dimmed, Logan held the curtain open, tipping his chin to the stage.

  “Why don’t you make the announcement? This is your event, bro.”

  Front and center was Logan’s stock and trade. He rarely gave up a chance to bask in the glory of our fans, even for a second.

  With a small nod, I mumbled my thanks and then strode toward the blinding spotlight. The crowd let out an earsplitting cheer as I took the mic.

  “How y’all doing tonight? I’m Christian.” Smiling, I paused as another round of applause shook the rafters. “Thanks for coming out to our fundraiser for Cure PSP. All the proceeds for tonight's show are earmarked for a research grant to take place right here at UT.” The weight on my shoulders lifted a little at the enthusiastic response. “Here’s to fighting the good fight! Let’s get this party started!”

  The ground shook as Logan joined me. Snaking an arm around my neck, he shouted into the mic, “Let’s here it for Christian! He planned this shin-dig!”

  Another loud roar threatened to blow the roof off the place. I held up a hand, nodding my thanks before retreating to my usual spot next to Cameron.

  “You done good, man,” he yelled.

  Plastering on a fake smile, I nodded, waiting for the show to start. Moments later, with the party clamoring around me, I closed my eyes and willed the music to carry me away. But the magic wasn’t there.

  My logic failed me and now I was paying the price. Daily.

  Feelings didn’t fade with time, as I’d always believed. Two days into winter—hell, only two more days until Christmas—and I wasn’t close to being over Mel.

  With every breath I took, at the edge of every thought, she was there. And as long as she stayed, time held no meaning.

  No matter what the calendar said, my love for the girl that smelled like a season trapped me in fall.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Christmas tree in the corner of my living room mocked my misery as I weaved my way to the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee. Boxes and bags full of ornaments, lights, and tinsel, sat unused in the corner of the room where they’d been since I hauled the decorations from the attic.

  Sighing, I poured the last of the bitter brew into Mel’s old UT mug, while lyrics cluttered my thoughts. I wasn’t the writer in the group—that was Cameron—but I’d been known to contribute a song here and there. And I’d been stuck on this one for days.

  Dropping onto the couch, I flipped open the leather bound journal and reread some of the lyrics.

  Lost in Fall…

  Autumn’s gone baby, but you still remain. Under my skin, tumbling ‘round my brain.

  Leaves have fallen, and the writing’s on the wall. You're not coming back, but I’m lost in fall.

  My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. Blowing out a breath, I read the text from Logan.

  Where are you? Lily won’t let us open presents until you get here.

  My gaze shifted to the single gift under my bare tree. The only one I’d bothered to wrap.

  Raking a hand through my unkempt hair, I pondered for a minute before responding: Y’all go ahead. I’m not feeling it. I might swing by later
.

  The phone beeped with Logan’s reply before I could set it down.

  Get your ass up, take a shower, and get over here. Or we’re coming to you.

  The screen darkened while I weighed my options. Glancing out the picture window, I noted the droplets of rain and gray skies. Central Texas offered no white Christmases to speak of, but winter made her presence known.

  Shaking off the gloom, I tossed the phone on the table as I headed for the stairs. Logan was a man of his word: if I didn’t get my head out of my ass and join in the celebration, they’d bring the celebration to me. And that’s the last thing I wanted.

  I stood under the steady stream of pulsing water in the shower longer than I intended, but the warmth helped thaw some of the chill that had settled in my bones.

  As I stepped into my pants, the doorbell echoed in the foyer.

  Fuck.

  “Coming!” I took the stairs two at a time, tugging a t-shirt over my head.

  Raking a hand through my damp hair, I plastered on a smile and opened the door. “You guys really didn’t…” The words died on my lips when I met the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Melody,” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”

  Clutching a brightly wrapped package to her chest, her exposed skin glistened from the droplet of rain.

  “I’m sorry for dropping by without calling.” She held out the present with shaking hands. “I wanted to give you this. And thank you for hosting the fundraiser at The P-Parish.”

  Her mouth curved into a smile despite her chattering teeth.

  “You’re freezing.” I wedged the package under my arm and then pulled her into the house. “Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”

  She crossed her arms over her rain-soaked shirt. “It wasn’t supposed to storm today. I checked the forecast and everything.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out as she shook, fighting off the chills trembling her body.

  Placing a hand on her back, electricity shot up my arm. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

  She tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. I don’t want to disturb you.”