Code Blue (The Sierra View Series Book 3)

by Max Walker

  Reminds me of college.

  The good old days. When Ethan didn’t constantly feel like the world was set on destroying him bit by bit. The past few years had really hammered that feeling home.

  He drank another gulp of the cold whiskey.

  The performance didn’t take much longer to start. Ethan considered leaving but he had nothing better to do and had the next day off, so he said ‘fuck it’, ordered another drink and pivoted on his stool so that he could watch what the fuss was about.

  The opening act was nothing special. Ethan felt like he had seen it a dozen times. A song about lollipops and kissing girls and champagne showers. The singer, Caeri, put on a good show, Ethan couldn’t deny that, but her songs just weren’t for him. The rest of the crowd seemed to be eating it up though, bouncing up and down along with her as she sang her heart out. The lights on the stage shined bright on her short neon blue hair, making her pop like a fairy out of a storybook.

  When she was done singing four of her songs, the stage went dark and the main act was teased by Caeri. The crowd started cheering the moment a shadowy figure took his spot on the stage. The lights hadn’t even come back on yet and people were already losing their minds. Ethan felt the energy of the moment rush over him. He had no idea who the hell he was about to see perform, but he was going to enjoy it regardless.

  And then the lights came on and Ethan came undone.

  There, standing on stage, framed by the strong white lights beaming from behind, was a man who literally took Ethan’s breath away. He felt himself inhale sharply, as though he were about to be dunked headfirst into a pool.

  It was in the man’s stance. The strong shoulders and powerful arms. Even more so in the man’s eyes. They were a soft brown in color that caught the stage lights and reflected back like endless pools of liquid amber. And that smile as he looked out onto the crowd.

  Holy fuck, that smile.

  Ethan managed to tear his eyes away long enough to take another drink. He had to soften this swell of lust that had suddenly consumed him.

  That was all it was; lust. He hadn’t gotten any since… well, it was going on almost two years, now.

  Maybe it’s about time.

  That’s when the man — Crow Kensworth, he said his name was — that’s when Crow started to sing and cast an entirely different spell over Ethan. He looked up from his glass and found himself instantly transported to the world Crow sang about. It was like the words had been written specifically for Ethan, an absolutely ridiculous thought that had his pulse run a little quicker. Crow’s voice had a croony aspect to it that quickly picked up and turned into a poppy sort of rap during the chorus, rising up into a harder hitting rock tone that reminded Ethan of Paramore, one of his favorite bands. He was blown away by the notes Crow was hitting, all while jumping around the stage and putting on a performance made to sell out entire stadiums. It was obvious that Crow lived to perform, and that feeling was infectious, spreading out into the crowd and creating an unmatchable energy.

  He sang three more songs before their eyes met and the entirety of both their lives changed forever.

  Jesus.

  Crow had been looking in the crowd for someone to bring up onto the stage when he looked to Ethan. The world caught fire the instant they locked eyes. Ethan felt like he should look away, down at his glass, he felt guilty for feeling this much sudden want for a person, but he was transfixed. He wasn’t too far from the stage, but he didn’t have front row seats either, and yet he could make out the man’s features as though they were a story he was telling for the hundredth time.

  He had only felt this way once before, and that story ended in tragedy. He wasn’t about to open up another one of the same books.

  Ethan managed to break his gaze. He looked down at his empty glass, wondering what the hell he was doing there, surrounded by a bunch of drunk college kids, some looking younger, worshipping the Adonis with a voice. He should have just gone straight home, like he had been planning. A new season of House of Cards had dropped and was begging to be binged, but Ethan had decided a drink at his usual spot wouldn’t hurt. He had only started coming back to this place again in the past five or so months. He found that the memories it held were easier to bear as time passed.

  The crowd exploded when Crow brought up his guest. Ethan looked up and recognized that one film star everyone seemed to be drooling over lately. He had seen him on a billboard on the way here, looking like the next James Bond, jumping out of a racing Ferrari with guns in both hands, arms outstretched. He definitely looked like a movie star, but that wasn’t enough to keep Ethan’s eyes from immediately going back to Crow; the main course. He took a moment to admire the man from the white Converse, up the tight black jeans, over the button-down shirt with scrunched up sleeves that highlighted some sexy ass forearms, and right to those light brown eyes that caught the light in a magical kind of way. Crow wasn’t looking at him in that moment, allowing Ethan a little more freedom to unabashedly check the singer out.

  The men started to sing, then. Everyone seemed to be surprised by how well the actor was doing, but Ethan didn’t really care. All he focused on was Crow, watching him sway to the music, his body working like a hypnotist’s pendulum. He was mesmerized. A snake held by the sensual notes of a flute, dancing and swirling in a pattern that locked the snake in place. Soon, he found himself swaying too, moving to the music, not even listening to the lyrics but being moved by Crow’s voice alone.

  And those eyes. They were light brown, Ethan could see them from where he sat, lit up by the stage lights, radiating a warmth of their own. Alluring. Ethan immediately felt comfortable, even though he had absolutely no prior knowledge of who this man was or how he even acted. But something in those eyes felt so familiar. Like a friend from long, long ago, only now bumping into one another.

  Then, Crow seemed to have found him in the crowd and he began to sing those crooney words directly to Ethan, and Ethan melted. He fucking melted. He didn’t know what came over him, but he was sitting there with his heart racing and his palms sweating and his whole world funneling in on the man with the other-worldy voice.

  “Crazy good, huh?” It was an extremely excited fan, her blonde hair streaked with a bright slab of pink. “I’ve been following him since he first started his YouTube channel.” She was smiling proudly, as though she was wearing a badge of honor. “You a big fan?”

  Ethan was still caught off guard by how affected he had been by the man on the stage. “I think I am now,” he said in a moment of simple honesty. The girl broke into a fit of giggles and turned her attention back to the stage as Crow ended his set. The audience cheered and clapped for more, they didn’t want the performance to end.

  Ethan, on the other hand, was finding himself to be ok with it ending. He felt like if he sat there for a second longer, he would have completely lost himself. It wasn’t like him. He was never taken this badly by a man he didn’t even know. He just had to go home, jerk off, have another drink, and go to sleep. He’d wake up, go back to work at the hospital, and forget all about this night. That was how things were going to go. How they were supposed to go. Ethan remembered the last time he had felt like this, and he was scarred from the way that ended.

  He got up from his barstool, glad that his legs decided to work, and started to try and get the bartenders attention so he could close his tab. The faster he got home, the faster he could start forgetting about Crow Kensworth.

  3 Crow Kensworth

  Crow sat on one of the couches, sandwiched between a drunk Angela and an even drunker Jordan, whose arm was thrown across the top of the couch, his hand dangerously close to Crow’s ear. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Not that he didn’t like attention, but he also knew how Jordan felt and the last thing he wanted to do was lead the guy on. Crow glanced at his watch, finished what was left of his drink, and slapped his thigh. He was going to get up from the couch to get another drink when they all heard knocks on the door over the
music. Crow turned away from the drinks and toward the door. He had a feeling he knew who was knocking.

  “Shepard!” he said as he opened the door. His twin brother was looking a little exhausted, sporting heavy dark bags under his eyes. Other than that, they looked identical. If his brother wasn’t wearing a gray sweater and light jeans, the complete opposite of what Crow had on, then they would have been much harder to tell apart. Crow also occasionally sported a beard while his twin enjoyed keeping a clean face.

  “Crow,” he said, shaking his head as they hugged. “Sorry for missing your performance, man. There was just no way I could get out of this test. And of course it landed on my evening block, so I couldn’t even finish early enough.”

  “Don’t even stress it,” Crow said. “Jordan caught it all on camera, so he’ll post it online later if you really want to watch.”

  “Still, this is your first big opening night. Fuck. This whole medical school thing better be worth it.”

  Crow arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure it will be.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Especially when I don’t have to pay to see a doctor anymore.”

  “You’re not getting a family discount.”

  “What?! I’m your twin. If I wanted, I could open up my own practice under your name.”

  “Yeah and then land up in a federal jail cell.”

  Crow shrugged. “It would make for a good documentary, at least.” The twins laughed, their pitches matching as Angela came over with a cup in hand, shaking her head and admiring them both.

  “You guys should have totally been a duo, imagine.” Angela tsked. She handed a red solo cup to Shepard. “The world hasn’t seen that. You’d both blow up.”

  “Yeah, two identically scorching hot guys with crazy good voices?” It was Jordan, he was walking past them, eyeing up Shepard like he was the last piece of steak he’d ever taste. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Jordan said as he was half-out the door, looking over his shoulder pointedly at the twins.

  The group cracked up. Jordan’s forwardness was funny, if a little inappropriate at times. He left the room, the music from the bar outside muting as the heavy door shut.

  “Our parents would have disowned both of us if they didn’t get a doctor in the family.” Shepard spoke with a smile, but Crow knew that there was a huge underlying pressure there. They had fallen into their established roles pretty early on: Crow, the artistic free spirit that flew around from interest to interest, finally landing on music, while Shepard always excelled in school since the time he could first pick up a pencil and write his own name. When their parents saw that Shepard was bringing home the straight As, they started steering him toward a career in medicine. Luckily, Crow knew that his twin brother genuinely loved helping people which was the M.O. of every physician, but the road was undeniably hard and Shepard was showing the wear and tear of constant studying, endless working, and little sleeping.

  That’s when the flowers caught Shepard’s eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone,” he said, walking over to the explosion of blue and yellow sitting next to a bowl of chips.

  “I’m not.” Crow was starting to feel a little loose. His limbs were taking on that jelly-like quality. Whatever was in the Boom-tini was strong.

  “Oh,” Shepard’s brows furrowed as he read the card out loud “Dear Crow, wow, your voice is incredible and your music really speaks to me. You make my life that much better. So much brighter. I was ruined by a man, but you give me hope that not all men are the same. I love you. Like, I’m in love with you. Sorry, that might be a lot. I’m a lot. I’ll be going with you on tour though, and I’m so excited. I’ll be at every stop. You won’t know — holy fuck” Shepard said, pausing from his reading for a second. “This is fucked up.”

  “Yeah,” Crow said. Hearing it out loud, the words coming from his twin, it was a little too surreal.

  Shepard continued where he cut himself off. “You won’t know who I am, not until I’m ready to show you. I have to make sure it’s the perfect moment. If not, then we might not work. I’ll make sure it’s perfect. Love you and kick ass on the tour.”

  Shepard shook his shoulders and dropped the note on the table as though it had caught fire.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.” Crow shook off the weird feeling. “We talked to the police. They opened a file and took the original. That one you have is a copy. They left it, as if I wanted a souvenir or something.”

  “You can frame it,” his brother joked. “Like a college degree.”

  Crow laughed at the ridiculousness of that. His twin always knew how to turn things around and ease Crow’s worries. Growing up, Crow had always been the more nervous of the two, finding inspiration in Shepard’s courage with the world. He was always ready to handle every challenge and he always nailed it. Crow was a little more emotional, more loose. He would never have survived through medical school, but he could shape his inner-most emotions into a song that touched people all around the world. They definitely both had their strengths and weaknesses, and most of the time, the sets complimented each other.

  “The party’s still bumping out there, huh?” Frankie asked, nodding toward the door.

  Crow could hear the thumping of the music outside. He wanted to go back out there. He wanted to talk to his fans and get to know some of them. He wanted to dance the night away, forgetting about creepy notes and instead celebrating a killer start to his tour.

  Most of all?

  Most of all, he wanted to see the man with the crystal blue eyes.

  There’s no way he’s still outside. It’s almost been an hour.

  It’s still worth a shot. He was about to ask his brother if he wanted to go out and brave the crowd when Troy came up to them, immediately latching on to Shepard. Crow watched as Troy pulled his twin over to the couch, chatting him up about something Crow couldn’t quite make out.

  The bar was still packed, and the fans immediately lost their collective shit when they realized Crow had come out from backstage and was trying to make his way over to the bar. He was pushed around and groped and offered drinks and had the brightly colored shadows of cellphone camera flashes in his eyes by the time he reached the bar. He couldn’t even make out if his target was there until he had reached it, and, sure enough, the man was no where to be found.

  Great. Of course. He probably sat long enough for drinks and left before traffic got bad.

  Crow felt a soft swell of sadness rise up from his chest. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it. He leaned on the bar and got the bartender’s attention, figuring he might as well have a drink. He could feel a group of college kids clustering up behind him, mustering up the courage to ask for selfies with him. He’d gladly pose, but first he needed the drink. He wanted to numb some of the disappointment that was growing sharper by each passing moment. Why was he feeling like this over some rando in the crowd?

  A rando that blew me away with a look.

  “You drink gin?”

  It was a gravely voice coming from behind him, on his left. He swiveled on the barstool and felt his gut tighten and his head lighten all at once. He was looking right down the barrels of those crystal clear blue eyes. The ones that had hypnotized him from a distance. They were so much more captivating now that Crow was inches away from them.

  And everything else: those slightly pouty lips, the five o’clock shadow, the close cut hair that framed a flawlessly cut jawline.

  “Whiskey?”

  Crow shook his head, snapping back to reality. “No, no, I hate whiskey. I’ll take the gin, though.”

  The man’s eyes searched Crow’s. There was something there. He didn’t look at Crow the way people had when he was getting swarmed for photos. Those people had a sort of star-struck quality to them, a brightness in their eyes that was mixed with a soft glaze of ‘holy shit, it’s him’. But that wasn’t the way this man looked into Crow’s eyes.

  No, if anything, it was Crow’s turn to give the star-stricken look. He k
new he must have been giving off that vibe. But not Mr. Blue Eyes. He was looking at Crow like he wanted to pick him up, carry him out of the bar, take him to a bedroom (any bedroom), throw him down on the bed (any bed), and completely devour him, only to declare that they would spend the rest of their lives together, tangled together forever like the first night they met in the dimly lit Santa Monica bar.

  I’ve fucking lost it.

  “I’m more of a whiskey guy, myself, but I can respect a good gin.”

  “Did I say I hate whiskey?” Crow started, “I meant I, er, hate people that hate whiskey.” Crow raised his eyebrows.

  Ethan chuckled. “I didn’t like whiskey either, at first. But then I was, I don’t know, taught how to drink it.”

  “Taught, huh?” Crow nodded, pursing his lips. “Maybe I just need a good teacher then.”

  “Maybe.”

  Crow looked at his watch and then perked up on the stool. “Oh shoot, what do you know, school’s in session.”

  That had the man cracking a smile. It was a smile soo fucking sexy, Crow had to look down at the bar for a few moments before he went from half-mast to full.

  Except, all that glancing down at the bar did was give him a better look of the man’s legs, which were currently spread open on the stool, his khaki shorts climbing up to about mid-thigh (and those were some thick thighs), which immediately had Crow’s mouth watering. Then his gaze ran over the man’s bulge, making Crow’s blood run twenty degrees warmer. He wasn’t sporting a boner, but he was definitely packing.

  And… yep. Full flag pole between Crow’s thighs.

  “I’m Ethan. Ethan Winter.” Ethan spoke loud enough to be heard over the pop music. He held a hand out, which Crow immediately took in his own.