by Harper Sloan
Dyllan gasps, lifting her body off the lounger and placing her wine glass down on the table between us. “Shut up. His smile alone?”
I nod, completely serious. “You have no idea, Dyll. There aren’t enough adjectives in the world that would help me describe to you what that man looks like when he lets one free or what it does to me. Totally should be classified as a deadly weapon, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, wow.” She falls back and looks over the pool in front of us while her eyes focus on the brightly lit lights of LA shining up at us from my lanai. “Wow,” she breathes dreamily again.
“How am I supposed to play the part of the in-love girlfriend—” I stop when I’m cut off by a hand waving in front of my face sloppily.
“Wife.” Dyllan giggles into her wine glass, her eyes bright with mirth.
“Whatever, Dyll. Just tell me how to make this work without going insane in the process. I want that man more than I’ve wanted anything in a long damn time, if ever. I don’t even remember wanting to be discovered this badly!”
Her face gets serious, despite the fact that I know she’s probably as drunk as I am. The soft light coming from the pool area is making her look almost crazy. “Where is the rule that says you can’t enjoy him while this whole thing is going on?”
“He’s here to be my security guard, not my live-in sex toy.”
“I just don’t see why you can’t have the best of both worlds. There are times that he doesn’t need to keep a constant guard on you. Like when you’re alone here, on the bus, or in a hotel. Who says you can’t both get something out of this. Lord knows you should be able to now that the media is going nuts speculating and not likely to stop anytime soon.”
Her words ping around in my head, and try as I might, I can’t stop them from taking root in my mind. “That would make things … complicated.”
She tosses her head back, her short blond hair dancing around her. “Wrenny, I think it’s safe to say that it’s already complicated. The whole world right now thinks you’re expecting his love child and that you’re either secretly married or will be soon. It doesn’t get much more complicated than that. Plus, you guys can think of it as studying for your roles as love-struck newlyweds. I always did say that you could tell with one glance which couples know what it feels like to stick their naughty bits together. You can just tell when a couple has that knowledge of each other.”
“I highly doubt that you can tell that just by looking at two people.”
“It’s true, I’m telling you. Watch.” She gets up from her seat and grabs my hand, pulling me up and out of the back lanai area and through the open glass panels that lead into our living room area.
We move through the house, walking by the kitchen and down a short narrow hallway that leads to the stairs to the bottom floor. I almost trip trying to keep up with her pulling against my arm. When we hit the bottom level, she looks down the long hallway that leads to the five bedrooms down here briefly before turning her attention toward the other hallway—shorter than the other—that leads to the movie theater and our in-house recording studio when the sounds of the guys messing with their instruments echoes around us.
She doesn’t drop my arm, pulling me farther until we stumble into the room. I see Luke and my brother sitting in front of each other, their fingers rapidly strumming their guitars for a second before they stop and discuss something. Wes makes a note on the paper next to them before they repeat the process. Since the sound in the control room is muted, we can’t hear what they’re saying, but I smile at the image of them writing new material.
“Watch this,” Dyllan commands and presses the button that will fill the room with our voices. “Hey guys,” she says into the mic. Both of them look up and roll their eyes but give us a wave. “Carry on,” she jokes with a smile.
“What was that?” I question her odd behavior.
“That is me proving a point. How did they look at us?”
I feel my face contort. “Like they always do. Annoyed with how much they love us.”
“Exactly. Like great friends and brothers would look at another woman.”
“Uh, okay?” I input, not knowing what else to say. Maybe she’s more drunk than I realized.
“Follow me.” She claps her hands and bounces slightly on her feet.
With a roll of my eyes, I follow her back the way we just came; only this time, she walks down the opposite hallway and stops in front of Jamison’s doorway. Not liking where I think this is going, I stand aside and wait for her to do whatever she is going to do.
Her hand comes up, looking over her shoulder at me before knocking.
“Yo!”
At Jamison’s bellow, she turns the knob and opens the door wide, giving me a clear view of the man himself as he sits on the edge of his bed with his game controller in his hand. He doesn’t move his eyes from the TV in front of him. My lips twitch when I see the faint red stain on his lips—left over from the LipSense color he couldn’t scrub off. I could have made it a little easier and given him some of my remover, but seriously, where is the fun in that?
“Hey, Jamison,” Dyllan calls into his room, talking a little louder than normal to be heard over the noise of machine guns and war sounds.
Jamison blinks then ever so slowly turns his head and looks right through me before his gaze settles on Dyllan. I watch as recognition sparks—his pupils dilate and his breathing speeds up ever so slightly. If I hadn’t been watching for something, I never would have noticed anything different in his demeanor, but fuck me, there is no way that could be mistaken.
Before he even has a chance to reply, I push off the wall and into the doorway, blocking his view of Dyllan. “You’ve had your naughty bit inside my best friend, you sicko!” I scream the accusation at him.
I can’t remember the last time I was able to lie in bed for hours and just gaze outside at the beautiful blue sky. I didn’t even close the shades last night before bed. Instead, I bypassed the button that would silently lower the dark panels over the huge expanse of glass that makes up a whole wall of my bedroom in favor of the second night of bliss promised by sleeping in my own bed after way too long. I should have taken the time, though, because the sun always hits the pool at this time of the morning, reflecting a bright beam of light right into my room. Even with that annoying wake-up call, I can’t be bothered to move, so I stretch out and decide I deserve just to lie here.
It’s boring.
It’s lazy.
So unproductive.
It’s the perfect beginning to the day. The smile that was already present on my face before my mind had even completely woke to full consciousness widens at the thought.
How long have I wanted, no … how long have I craved this right here? I’m almost afraid to move, for fear that this will all be a dream and I’ll wake up to find that I’m really on the tour bus in some city in the United States that I have to have someone remind me to get right before I go on stage.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” my brother sings, coming into the lounge area that is set up right by the doorway of my room. He doesn’t wait for a response before walking fully into my room.
“I think it’s more like afternoon, Wes, but I’ll take it.”
“Just checking to see if you need anything. Jamison, Luke, and I are headed out to meet Dyllan for some new clothes and shit. I never thought I would look forward to the day I could go shopping on my own.”
I laugh. “How did she take you asking to actually go shopping instead of her picking up a bunch of shit to bring here for you to choose from?”
“I’m pretty sure she thinks we’ve lost our minds. Maybe we have, but we’ve been home for a week, and I already feel like a new man.”
“You aren’t wrong,” I agree with a bubble of laughter. “God, Wes. All it took was a week, and I already feel like the constant struggle to breathe is gone.” I pause. “I was starting to resent the music, you know,” I finish, my voice small and sad.
�
�I know, I know. I thought by now I would have some regret over ending things with Brighthouse, but all I feel is relief … and excitement.”
He searches my face, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m not sure if we would be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for that whole not marriage you’ve gotten yourself into.”
I tag one of the pillows next to me and toss it at his head. His hand comes up, and he easily deflects the movement.
“Careful, sister. Think of my not niece!”
“Oh, you annoying little shit,” I jabber then both of us start laughing, loudly.
“Slumber party!” Jamison yells from the end of the bed, jumping and landing hard on the bed next to me, causing my body to bounce. “I always knew I would get in bed with you.” He wags his brows and makes a throaty meow noise in the back of his throat.
“You’re the most annoying man in the whole world,” I inform him.
He shrugs.
“Where are Luke and Chance?” I question, not that I expected Chance to join in, but Luke usually isn’t too far behind Jami.
“Gym, I think. At least, that’s the last place that I saw Chance on my way upstairs. You have that man working out day and night to burn off his sexual tension. If you’re not going to give in to me then, by God, put him out of his misery.”
Wes makes a sound close to gagging and stands from the bed. I roll my eyes, but for once, I actually give Jamison’s advice some merit. I have been avoiding Chance for pretty much the whole week—something that clearly hasn’t gone unnoticed. I think I did it more out of self-preservation than anything else. I’m not sure what to do with the feelings swirling through my body, completely feverish in their insanity, when he’s around.
“You know that can’t happen,” I confess with a slight wave to my words, making them come out more like a question than a statement.
“And why is that, Wren?” Wes pipes in, not looking grossed out anymore. His blue eyes almost look hopeful. I guess the question would be whether he’s hopeful that I believe that, or hopeful that I’m questioning it.
“He works for us, Wes. He’s supposed to keep me safe, not sated.”
Jamison sits up, crossing his legs in front of him. His blond hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back with a lazy run of his fingers through the thickness. “Yeah, but who are we to say he can’t do both?”
“I think he’s the one who’s saying that actually,” I embarrassingly admit.
“Has he actually said you two can’t be together?”
I think back to the times we have been together. He warned me not to start something with him. He advised me to protect myself from him. But he’s never said no. He’s never sounded like he didn’t want me either. “Not that I can recall.”
“Then I guess it’s up to you now,” Jamison says, his normally joking jabs absent as complete seriousness falls over him. “He makes you laugh, Wren. He makes those shadows dancing in your eyes vanish. For the first time in too long, you aren’t acting like a dark cloud is hanging over your head. I’m not the smartest bastard around, but it doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that all of that started almost two weeks ago. The same time Chance Nash walked into our lives in New York.”
“Whoa, Jamison. Getting deep, bro.” Wes slaps his shoulder. He might have wanted his words to come across as lighthearted and joking, but the way he’s looking at me speaks a different story. He breaks our connection and gives Jamison a small nod. Then we’re alone again, and the door shuts softly behind Jamison as he exits.
“Do you like this guy?”
“Straight to the point, Weston,” I grumble.
“Do you,” he reiterates.
My shoulders drop with a sigh. “Yeah, Wes. I do.”
“You don’t even know him, Wren. He’s been around for two weeks, and aside from when we were in New York and the trip home, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid him. How can you like someone you don’t know?”
“I avoid him because he scares the shit out of me.”
He startles at my response. “How so?”
“The way he makes me feel, Wes. Never have I felt anything like that … except when we’re on stage. Like I’m completely high and out of my mind with the way my nerves dance in my body. Everything comes alive. My skin feels hypersensitive. My ears amplify the sounds around me. My vision is clear and crisp with a brightness that looks fake. It’s absolutely terrifying.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wes sputters.
“Tell me what happens when I give in to what I feel for this man? What happens when I give in to those feelings and then … then he turns out to be just like the rest?”
Wes frowns. “Just like the rest?”
“The rest of the people who only wanted what being with us could bring to their lives. What if I do get a chance with him, and he ends up hating me because of the fame?”
Understanding dawns on his face. “Fuck, Wren,” he whispers, coming to sit next to me on the bed and pulling me into his comforting arms. He waits for me to rest my head on his shoulder before he speaks again. “Not everyone is like that, baby sister. We’ve kept to ourselves, the four of us, since we left home. The boys you dated before then, they were just that … boys. I’m not saying that your fears aren’t justified, but we agreed to leave our past behind us a long time ago. You need to let go of those fears. Not everyone is out to use us.”
“Garrett did.”
“Garrett was a twenty-one-year-old punk. It’s been five years, Wren. Chance is a man, not some kid desperate to make his dreams come true.”
“People still become greedy, no matter the age,” I grunt.
“Don’t let our fucking parents do that. Don’t let them influence your life all these years later. Not after we’ve won by succeeding when they vowed we would fail.”
“Wes …” I exhale. “Our own parents tried to use us. How can you believe that others should be trusted not to do it when the people who gave us life did?”
His head drops to rest against mine. His free hand comes up into my line of sight, and he holds it palm up, waiting. My eyes water, thinking about all the years we used to sit just like this when we were upset. The second my palm touches his, just like every time before, my brother gives me strength with a simple touch of our hands.
“Not everyone is like that. I won’t insult you by trying to justify why they neglected us. Honestly, Wren, nothing could justify that, but for me, I have to believe they are the worst things we will ever have in our lives, and something better is waiting for us to find it. Someone who will show us that all the shit we put up with as kids was worth it because they’re the reward waiting for us. You have to give someone a chance to discover if they’re the reward.”
I pull my hand from his and wipe at my eyes. “And if I fall for this man, the allure of a reward, only to find him not there to catch me?”
My brother’s arm tightens around me. “Then you still won’t hit the ground, little sister, because I will always be here to make sure you never fall far.”
“Love you, bub,” I sniffle, using the nickname I had for him when we were small children.
“Love you right back, sissy.”
The guys left an hour ago. I feel vulnerable after the heaviness of my chat with Wes, in a sense, so like the coward I am, I’ve stuck to my bedroom instead of venturing out. For the first time since we moved into this huge house, I thank my lucky stars that the guys let me have the master bedroom suite. Not only is it huge, but there’s a bar next to the fireplace that sits across from my bed, a smaller room attached to the large bedroom that holds a couch and some chairs, a TV, and some bookshelves, and a bathroom that could double as a private spa.
Seriously, it’s like a small heaven.
The guys all took rooms on the lower level of our house, leaving me not only with the huge master but also making the main level of our home feel more like I live alone.
The floor plan of our house is like a large U shape; the lanai and po
ol area are in the middle of that U, outdoors and overlooking the city below, mountains in the distance, and houses around the hills that surround us.
My bedroom area, two of the guest rooms, and an office make up one tip of the letter’s shape. The formal living room and formal dining room are on the curve with the front door, along with the staircase that leads below. The kitchen, laundry, massive pantry, complete with a wine storage room, and a second more relaxed living room make up the other tip of the letter.
The guys’ rooms and two other guest rooms are all under the kitchen’s side, leaving the movie theater under mine—with the studio and gym under the center.
It’s huge—unnecessarily so—but I’ve never regretted the huge chunk of change that we put down on it. I don’t even think a small army would be enough to fill the ridiculous amount of space we have in our home.
Which is perfect when you’re trying to avoid someone.
I open my door and stick my head out, looking down the hallway to see if I can sense any movement further in the house. I know he’s here … I can feel him. His very presence is a tangible tingle that dances across my skin, making goose bumps pop up in its wake.
“What are you doing?”
I jump, scream, and whirl around to face the man of the house, standing in the middle of the hallway, opposite of the direction where I had been looking.
“Uh,” I stutter.
“You were trying to find out where I was, weren’t you?”
My face heats, and his eyes drop lower. I can just imagine that my face is flaming red, probably my neck, and most likely, the parts of my chest that are exposed from the low neckline of my tank top.
“Why are you avoiding me, Wrenlee?” he jibes.
“Dammit,” I hiss. It’s now or never. I can continue to be a little coward, or I can hike up my pants—er, leggings—and stop being afraid. “Shit.” I look around, not meeting his eyes, but then as if lightning had struck right where I stood, I know what I need to do. My spine straightens and my shoulders go back as confidence fills my body with every breath. I meet his gaze and shrug. “Because it was easier to avoid you than get turned down when you—again—deny the chemistry between us.”