One More Song

by Seabrook, C. M.

  It wasn’t hard to avoid Ash. I’m pretty sure he didn’t leave his bedroom until Cadence got off the school bus. He made a pot of coffee as Cadence told me about her day and I did my very best to get her through her snack faster than usual. After our near kiss last night, I don’t exactly trust myself with him.

  “So what’s going on?” Millie presses. “It’s not like you to miss the Moms and Muffins meeting.”

  I groan. “That was today?”

  Millie laughs. “I texted you.”

  “I totally spaced. But I wouldn’t have come anyway. Deb would have been there.” I fill her in on the playdate request and she rolls her eyes.

  “What a bitch.”

  I bite my lip, looking over the playground. Cadence and Tabitha are halfway up the jungle gym and can’t hear the conversation, but there are other parents here and I don’t want to get a reputation for talking crap about anyone. My life works because I never let down my guard.

  “So that’s why you’re acting so weird? It’s about Deb and Mitch?”

  “Yeah,” I say, avoiding the truth. And I know my eyes will betray me if I mutter Ash’s name.

  Millie squeezes my arm. “Honey, you need to let that go. If they are actually together, then Cadence is going to be a part of her life.”

  “It would have been nice if Mitch had run it past me is all.”

  “Maybe it’s time the two of you sat down and rehashed your agreement,” she suggests. “You’ve been frustrated with what he lets her watch when she’s with him, and how late she stays up, maybe it’s time to work out some of the kinks.”

  Easy for her to say. Millie has been married to Keith for eight years going on eighty. They are the quintessential version of happily ever after. It would make me nauseous if I didn’t love her so damn much.

  She also doesn’t know all the volatile details of Mitch and my relationship. No one does. I’d been too embarrassed about it at first, but now I just want to keep the past where it belongs - dead and buried.

  “Maybe,” I finally mutter.

  “Okay,” Millie laughs. “I know you aren’t gonna bite the bullet and tell him what you want. So how about this, Friday night we have a double date?”

  “Millie—”

  “I mean it. I know you keep saying no, but just this once, let me set you up. I already have a guy in mind. If Mitch is having fun, you should too.”

  I swallow, thinking about Ash. A man so not my type it should be funny. After my horribly messy marriage with Mitch, a man who lived and breathed rock and roll when we first met, I swore off musicians for life.

  No way am I hitching a ride on that wagon again. It meant weeks with him on the road, never any consistent paychecks, no health care or retirement. No stability. His dream meant mine got a backseat. And when I’d suggested that he got a more secure job, he’d gone into a rage that had terrified me.

  When Cadence came, I thought it would knock sense into him.

  But it didn’t.

  It wasn’t until we split up that he got his act together. A job at his dad’s insurance firm. A 401k. A house on the other side of town. The nicer side.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel personal. It was personal. And it broke my heart.

  And I never want to feel that way again.

  Maybe going out on a date with someone else will get my mind off Ash.

  “Who’s the guy?”

  Millie grins. “He plays poker with Keith. His name’s Granger. And he’s a park ranger.”

  “Granger the Ranger?” I laugh. “Is that a joke?”

  “No.” Millie suppresses her smile. “He’s handsome. And stable. Keith said he even built his own house.” She nudges me and winks. “It could be nice to have a handyman around your place.”

  “Not the best reason to date someone,” I deadpan.

  “I promise, you’ll like him.”

  Deciding to go all in, I give my best friend the warmest smile I can muster. “Cadence will be with her dad this weekend, so just tell me when and where.”

  Millie squeals with delight. Apparently she’s been wanting me to come out with her for a long time. “Okay, we can do dinner at The Kitchen, and since it’s karaoke night at the Boneyard, that’s where we’ll end up.”

  I groan. Karaoke sounds like hell.

  But the look on Millie’s face tells me this is already a done deal. “Fine, but I’m not singing.”

  She just chuckles, calling the girls over so we can head to our homes. “That’s what everyone says before they’ve had tequila.”

  I let out a laugh that surprises even me. Maybe Millie is right. I need some fun. And maybe Granger the Ranger is the man I’ve been looking for all my life.

  Chapter Six

  Ash

  “Shit, Ash,” Saint says, strumming his fingers over the strings of his guitar as I pace. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous with all your stalking around.”

  “Just tell me what you think?” I gave the guys the song I wrote the other night, and the guys have been fiddling with trying to put chords to it all afternoon.

  But that’s not the only thing that’s making me antsy. We’ve been pent up in this house for three days and I’m going a little stir crazy. It’s not just the lack of fans screaming my name, or the high I get being on stage. Hell, I’m actually fine that I’m stone-cold sober. But I’ve taken more cold showers in the past thirty-six hours than I have my entire life.

  Not that they’ve helped.

  My cock is constantly hard. And it doesn’t help that I catch Ember watching me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention. But then the second I try to approach her or talk to her, she finds anything she can to make herself busy. It’s like she’s trying to pretend that we didn’t share a moment the other night.

  “Dude, I’ll admit it, this song is sick,” Synn says, leaning back on the couch, guitar across his chest and strumming out the chords of the first verse. “If we add a drum solo after the second verse, it’s gonna give it more of a pop.”

  “Good call,” Dusky says and I chuckle. Of course the drummer is all for another drum solo.

  “I’m glad you guys like it.” I sit down on the couch, some of my tension easing. “I wrote another one last night, take a look.” Pressing a button on my phone, I hit send on a file and the song lands on their devices.

  “You better have, considering you’re sleeping half the day away. Your sleep schedule is all fucked up, man,” Saint says, standing and stretching.

  “I don’t mind if it means you’re up all night writing lyrics like this.” Synn’s eyes scan his phone. “Shit, you wrote this?”

  I clench my jaw, feeling my face redden. The song is romantic as fuck, even I know that - which is a shock considering I’ve never had a serious relationship. I’m rounding up on thirty, even I know that’s veering on suspect.

  “I couldn’t sleep is all.”

  “Who inspired this?” Dusky asks, reading the song.

  A hazel-eyed fire that burns so damn bright.

  A raw-edged heart keeping me up all night.

  Just then, Ember walks into the living room in a tight black dress that hugs every inch of her body. My cock twitches at the sight of my muse like it does every time I see her. It’s been three days of torture. In some ways, I’m glad she’s kept her distance because if I was alone with her, I know everything would change. I’d make sure of it.

  “Where are ye headed looking like that, lass?” Dusky asks, eyebrows raised, giving her an appreciative look, one I want to knock off his face.

  Ember’s cheeks redden and she shakes her head, her long hair curled, her eyes extra smoky. The kid is with her dad this weekend. I know that because there weren’t any cookies baking in the oven when I woke up this afternoon, and no sounds of the giggling that usually fill the halls.

  “Actually,” she says, looking anywhere but at me. “I have a date.”

  A date? Jealousy blasts through me without warning.

  “
A date, huh?” Synn says the words I’m thinking, plucking his guitar, not looking up at her. “Who’s the lucky guy?” He asks it so nonchalantly that I know he isn’t vying for her attention.

  If I was to ask the exact thing, everyone in the room would know that song they just read is about her. Reining in my emotions has never been my strong suit. Once I’ve made up my mind about something, I’m all in, no matter the shit it causes me or others.

  Which is why I’ve gotten myself into so much fucking trouble. But it’s also one of the reasons Absinthe is such a huge success. I poured my heart and soul into building our band. And this past year I’d spent almost as much energy tearing it down.

  “Um, just a friend of a friend...” Ember glances at me but looks away quickly. “I’ve never actually met him.” She drags a hand over her dress, her brows furrowed. “Do you think this is too much?”

  “Ye look stunning,” Dusky says, still grinning at her. “I hope he’s taking ye somewhere special.”

  Again, I’m ready to punch the guy. Not that his words are meant to be flirtatious, but they stir even more jealousy to burn a path up my throat, and I have to swallow it back when I catch Synn watching me with one dark brow raised.

  “Thanks.” She smiles at Dusky, a real smile that lights up her face.

  And hell, that damn green-eyed emotion bites into me again.

  I stand up, a little too abruptly, causing all heads to turn in my direction.

  “I need some air,” I mutter, leaving the room and heading toward the back of the house.

  It shouldn’t bother me that she has a date. But it does. More than I want to admit.

  Especially when I hear the engine of her minivan turn over, and then tires rolling down the gravel driveway.

  “What’s eating your ass?” Synn asks a few minutes later, meeting me on the back porch and handing me a cold beer.

  “Thought Ember didn’t keep alcohol in the house.” I uncap the bottle and take a long swig. “Another way to make sure no one has any fun in this godforsaken town.”

  “You’re in a mood.” He sits down on the step, stretching his legs out.

  “Says the guy who hasn’t stopped scowling since we got here.”

  He shrugs. “At least something productive has come from it. Those lyrics are good.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nods and leans back against the railing. “Ten more like those and we’ve got our next album.”

  We sit in silence as the sun starts to set over the large oaks and sycamores.

  “Almost reminds me of home,” he mutters.

  “Yeah right, sure without the sirens wailing and the stench of smog.”

  His lip twitches. “Right.”

  But I know it’s not the place he means. There’s music here. You can’t hear it, but you can feel it. Synn was the one who taught me that. Certain melodies can’t be heard, only felt.

  I close my eyes and let it wrap around me now.

  Ember.

  Ember.

  Ember.

  The beat is strong, the tempo slow, yet consistent.

  I open my eyes when I hear Synn stand. He’s looking out toward the sunset, his brows drawn down. He’s still pissed at me. And I get it. He’s the closest I have to a brother, and this past year I’d pushed him away.

  The truth is, I wouldn’t have any of this if it weren’t for him.

  Yeah, I’m the lead singer of Absinthe, but Synn is the backbone, the real leader of the group. We started writing songs together in junior high, and by the time everyone else was headed off to college life, we were touring the east coast with B-rated bands.

  We found Landon St. James by accident after a gig. He’d been a dorky little kid back then, following his cousin Zee’s band as a roadie and occasional bassist when their own was too strung out on coke to play.

  We went through a few drummers before we found Dusky. He’d been covering for the drummer for Wild Irish when we’d met him, and we all just clicked. And that’s when Absinthe was born.

  And our futures were written in bright glittery lights.

  Tours.

  Fame.

  Women.

  Drugs.

  Rock-and-fucking-roll.

  “You ever think that this life we’ve created is complete bullshit?” I ask.

  Synn leans his head back against the railing post and looks at me, taking a few seconds to think about my question before answering. “No. I think we’re probably four of the luckiest bastards alive.”

  I pick at the label of my bottle. I know he’s right. But then why the fuck can’t I fill the damn emptiness in my chest. I know why. The demons I don’t want to face. Can’t face.

  “Just do me a favor,” Synn says, standing. “Keep your dick in your pants while we’re here.”

  I grunt and flip him off.

  “I’m serious, dude. Ember doesn’t need you fucking her around. She’s got a kid—”

  “Since when has my sex life concerned you?”

  “Since it was blasted all over the internet.” He frowns down at me. “And I like her—”

  I glare up at him. “So that’s it? You want her for yourself?”

  He snorts. “Sure, she’s hot, but that’s not what I meant. She’s not like the normal chicks that we’re used to. She’s...good.”

  Which is something I’ve never claimed to be.

  “No shit,” I mutter, dragging my hand through my hair. “And I don’t plan on fucking her.”

  “You never plan anything, Ash. That’s why we’re here in the middle of nowhere, one little mistake away from losing everything we’ve worked so hard for. So tell me now if that’s what you want? If you don’t want this life anymore, then fine, we’ll walk away. But don’t screw it up on purpose.”

  He walks back into the house before I can say anything else. Not that there’s much to say. He’s right on all accounts. I’ve fucked up more times than I can count.

  My agent’s been trying to get me in to talk to a shrink for years. But the last thing I need is to spill all my daddy issues to some stranger who’ll no doubt sell the story to the top-paying magazine.

  I’m not a complete idiot, I know the asshole messed me up. I’ve got the baggage to prove it.

  I’ll never forget his last words to me before he’d put a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  You think you’re so much better than me, son. But you’re just like me. Broken. Selfish. You think because women fuck you, and men want to be you that they love you? They don’t give two shits about you. You’re just as empty as I am. And you’ll die just as alone.

  He’d shown up at my place wanting a handout, and I’d turned him away. The police found his body four days later in an alley outside the venue we were playing at. His final fuck-you-farewell. And the media had been all over it.

  It was the beginning of my end.

  Some portrayed him as the villain, others the victim. But none got it right. He was just a lonely, pathetic, drunk old man who’d never loved anyone in his life.

  Not my mom.

  Not me.

  And not himself.

  I drag a hand over my face roughly and curse under my breath because part of me knows that I’m following precariously close in his footsteps.

  Self-reflection is a bitch, and not something I’m in the mood for tonight. What I need is something to quiet the demons in my head.

  “Beer is not strong enough for this shit,” I mumble, standing and walking back into the house, grabbing the keys to one of the rental SUVs off the table.

  “Where are you going?” Saint asks when I open the front door.

  “Out.”

  The guys don’t try to hide their curses. But it’s Dusky who voices their concerns, “The whole point of being here is to stay off the radar.”

  I grab a baseball cap from the tree rack and put it on. “There, incognito.”

  Synn just glares at me, but Saint is already rising from the couch, and he follows me outside.
/>
  “Don’t need a babysitter,” I mutter when he hops in the passenger seat beside me.

  “Honestly, I need to get out of the house as bad as you do.” He rolls down the window when I start the ignition.

  A second later, the two back doors open and Synn and Dusky pile in.

  “So, where are we going?” Dusky asks.

  I have no fucking clue. But after driving around the shitty little town for thirty minutes looking for a liquor store and not finding one, I finally settle on an old dive bar that looks mostly empty.

  It’s as good a place as any to drown my sorrows in a bottle of whiskey.

  Chapter Seven

  Ember

  “Ember is a fantastic cook,” Millie says as we’re all finishing our meals. Another one of her multiple attempts to pump me up in front of Granger.

  I appreciate her effort. But I’m already a hundred percent certain that nothing will ever happen between us. She wasn’t lying when she said he was good looking. He’s got the whole burly, ‘I just wrestled a bear with my bare hands’ look going on.

  But as much as I was hoping that there’d be some kind of sizzle and spark, anything to get my mind off Ash, there just isn’t.

  Granger is wholesome and kind and solid. The kind of man I could count on. The kind of man I should fall for.

  But apparently, I have a type.

  And he’s not it.

  I’ve only ever fallen for guys who are bad for me. Men who make music are the ones who get my heart tied in knots. And I’d rather be single than go down that rabbit hole again.

  “Millie says you have a daughter,” Granger says when the bill is paid and we start walking down Main Street toward our next destination.

  “Yeah. She’s six.” I stumble slightly when my heel catches in a divot, and I’m grateful when Granger reaches for my elbow to steady me. Flesh against flesh, but still no heat - nothing.