Taut Strings: A Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  The thought of our impending departure was like a bucket of cold water spilling over my head. “Are you still thinking of leaving as soon as we’re done?”

  I knew that initially Cole had been eager to leave, but I couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to Ade in two weeks time. It wasn’t enough.

  “I guess we could stay for a bit longer, but our life is in LA, while hers is here. We’ll be saying goodbye sooner rather than later.”

  “You can’t speak for us as a unit anymore,” I stated. “After this recording, we’ll be free agents.”

  A shadow passed over Cole’s face, and he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “We need to talk about that.”

  I realized I’d just brought up the conversation he’d been carefully preparing for over these past few weeks. My throat tightened as I nodded at him to continue.

  “I don’t want to give up on us,” he began. “We just told Adeline all about how she should fight for her band, but we’re giving up on our own? It’s not right.”

  Charlie dying hadn’t been right, either, but it had happened anyway. His face flashed in my mind—lips curled in a smirk I knew too well. I was relieved when I realized that the debilitating guilt I usually felt whenever I thought of him had dulled slightly.

  “I don’t know,” I told Cole and saw the pain reflected in his eyes. In that moment, looking at my friend of twenty years, I knew the dam was about to burst.

  I let it.

  Dropping my face into my palms, I began to sob. A moment later, Cole pulled me into a tight hug.

  “I was the one who told him to give us space.” All the words I’d kept unspoken since Charlie’s death now spilled out. “I told him he needed to work through his issues on his own before he brought the rest of us down. He had gotten so negative, so aggressive during those months that all the air was sucked out of the room every time we were together.”

  “Ezra, you did what you thought was right for all of us. We tried to help, but he wouldn’t let us. He was pushing all of us away even before you said anything. And no one knew about the drug addiction. If we’d known, we would have stayed by his side until he checked himself into rehab.”

  “I just can’t help but think that my actions were what broke the camel’s back.”

  I pushed Cole away slightly so that I could look him in the eyes when I said this next part. “That’s why I took a step back. I don’t want to make any decisions for the group anymore, not when it means I’ll be responsible for their outcomes. If something happens to the rest of you, I won’t be able to handle it.”

  Cole rocked back and sat down on the floor at my feet. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, but you’re also an idiot. You are an incredible leader for the band, but we’re all adults, and if you ever made a decision that didn’t make sense, we wouldn’t follow you like trained puppies. If we did, that’s on us, not on you. No one, not even Abel, who’s taken this harder than Silas and I, blame what happened with Charlie on you. Not one bit. I can’t even say we’ve forgiven you because there was nothing to forgive. You need to be kinder to yourself, just like you’d be to me if our positions were reversed.”

  I allowed his words to settle over my soul. I knew one honest conversation wouldn’t fix everything, but some part of me still felt lighter as a result.

  “Fuck, man,” I huffed, steepling my fingers in front of my face. “When did shit get so goddamn hard?”

  “You’re making it harder than it needs to be, my man,” Cole said, rising from the floor and moving back to the couch. “We are musicians. Making music isn’t the hard part. The opposite is. What the hell are you going to do if we break up? You’ve got a backup plan? I sure don’t. The rest of them don’t. We need to talk to Abel and get ourselves back on track.”

  I hoped he was right, but I also knew it was a tall hill to climb. Abel’s wounds ran deep.

  “This recording process has been healing for me.” Cole sniffed. “It’s helped me deal with some of my personal shit.”

  I studied the sour expression on his face. “Amy?”

  “Yeah. I know it was a while back, but some part of me was still bitter, and I just couldn’t let go of it for the longest time. The other day, I finally looked at the paintings I had of her—my “love letters”—and it was like looking at a piece of greasy sandwich paper. You know it held something good at it one time, but now it’s just trash. I had talked to Adeline about it right before, and seeing how she reacted to the story made me realize I’m ready to move on.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I told my friend. “It was time to end that chapter.”

  “I know. And I also know that the same is not true for us. This experience has given us a second wind. I’m so fucking grateful for Adeline, because I really think she’s playing a huge part in bringing us together and making us work so well. I don’t want to walk away from the band when the last song is done.”

  I didn’t want to walk away from it, either. We were a family. I’d lived through my ultimate highs and lows with these guys, and I didn’t know who I was without them.

  “Okay, let’s talk to Abel. I think we should take a few days away from this place,” I said, a plan slowly taking form in my head. “Maybe changing up our environment will help Abel see what Bleeding Moonlight could look like without Charlie.”

  Cole hummed. “Like a camping trip? Remember the last one we took together?”

  Oh yeah, I remembered that fiasco pretty well. Still had scars to prove it.

  “Yeah, but let’s not play a game of who can jump over the biggest fire this time around. Just good old-fashioned time outside in nature. We’ll exhaust him with a long hike and then start talking about the future. He’s always most receptive to ideas when he’s physically spent.”

  “I like it. Let’s plan for next weekend, although that means that we’ll miss out on a weekend with Adeline.”

  It was nearly enough of a reason for me to scrap the whole idea, but I forced myself to think with my big head instead of my little one.

  “We can’t give up. We have to try to convince him that Bleeding Moonlight has a future.”

  Cole nodded. “He’s still behaving like a bastard, but not as bad as I thought he’d be given we’re recording an album so important to him. Maybe he’s coming around on his own.”

  “Who knows what’s going on inside his head.” I shrugged. “Honestly, when he was loud and angry, at least he was easier to read. His silent glares are a lot more ominous.”

  “He doesn’t glare at Adeline, though,” Cole noted. “He says rude shit, but when he looks at her, especially when she’s not looking, there’s something…more thoughtful there.”

  I scrubbed at my chin. “If only he’d been less of a dick right from the beginning, he could have been a part of our conversation about her.”

  Cole shrugged dismissively. “Too late for that. Plus, he’s not going to charm her with a few secret looks. But I wonder if we should invite her on the trip. She might help keep him civil.”

  I shook my head. We couldn’t rely on Adeline to fix all of our problems, not when we were only a few weeks from leaving her and this place. If we were going to continue as a band, we had to be sure that we could do it with just the four of us.

  And whoever we’d eventually need to find to fill Charlie’s role.

  17

  ADELINE

  The band practice was cancelled.

  Liam texted our group chat that the in-laws were staying through Wednesday, and that he couldn’t bail on them. Cold disappointment washed over my skin, but I knew he wasn’t stalling intentionally. Still, this Friday, Mason would be driving himself and Molly to Northeastern, and we were running out of time.

  Mason suggested we meet at six pm on Thursday in his garage, and we all agreed to that plan, given it was our one last option.

  I’d have to leave the studio early that day, since we usually worked past seven, but I knew the guys would understand.

  When I
went to make breakfast and told Molly that I was free until my shift at the bar, she gave me a nervous look.

  “What?” I asked while throwing a banana into the blender.

  “Can we go to see Mom and Dad? You promised we could visit before I left.”

  I hated how thin her voice sounded, because I was the reason why it did. She knew I didn’t like going there, and over the years she had nearly given up on asking me to come with her. Of course, she didn’t know that the reason I hated that place was because it was a constant reminder of how close I’d once been to giving up on my responsibility to her.

  Putting the lid on the blender, I turned around. “Of course. I’m sorry I’ve been forgetting about it.”

  For once, that part was true. With everything going on in my life, I’d forgotten that Molly and I had agreed to go see them. In fact, despite my best efforts, I hadn’t spent as much time with my sister as I would have liked, and in five days, she would be leaving.

  She frowned at the look on my face. “Oh, no. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you or anything. I’m not mad.”

  I scrubbed my head. “I haven’t been around enough, have I? Between the album and the bar—”

  Molly lifted her palm up. “Stop right there. First of all, I’m almost eighteen. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “You’re not a legal adu—”

  “Uh, uh, uh!” she cut me off. “I’m not finished. My second point was going to be that you would be a friggin’ idiot not to take absolute advantage of this gift from the universe. Ade, if you wanted to move into the studio for the entire month, I would bring the boxes. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I will not let you ruin it for yourself by worrying about me.” She huffed. “Do you know how bad I feel for making you sacrifice the last two years of your life just so that you could take care of me?”

  My eyebrows pinched. “What are you talking about? I didn’t sacrifice anything.”

  “You don’t even have the decency to harbor any lingering resentment, do you?” Molly asked, flinging her arms out. “Instead of going on dates, you were picking me up from dance classes or supporting us by working at the bar. Instead of going out drinking with your friends, you were watching movies with me on the couch. Instead of letting yourself chase your dream of becoming a musician, you pushed me to pursue my own.”

  “I’d given up on that dream long before what happened,” I rushed to correct her, but she shook her head.

  “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve done enough for me over the past two years to last a lifetime. You don’t need to do that anymore. The only thing that’s helping me not shrivel up under the weight of my eternal debt to you is this album. Seeing you do this for yourself right as I’m about to leave is the best goodbye gift you could have possibly given me. Don’t you dare feel guilty about it. Don’t you friggin’ dare.”

  I listened to her, stunned. In the past two years, she had never given me a hint that she felt that way. Tears welled in my eyes.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I croaked, pulling her into a hug. “You’re my sister. You’re the one who taught me to be brave. What the hell am I going to do when you’re not here?”

  She rubbed my back. “I’m going three and a half hours away, not flying to the Moon,” she spoke into my shoulder, her words coming out muffled. “You’ll see me so much that soon you’ll be insisting I get my summer internship somewhere farther away.”

  Crying and chuckling at the same time, I leaned back to look at her face. “I love you, Mol.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Love you, too, but honestly, you still smell like the hot dude from last night, and I think I’m gonna need those details on the drive over.”

  Not a chance in hell.

  “You’re sounding unusually good today,” Abel said after I finished recording the rhythm track of their fifth song on Monday.

  I ignored the implied insult in that sentence. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s the first time you got it perfect on the very first try.”

  “Week number three.” I shrugged. “I’m getting the hang of it.”

  Cole, sitting on the couch in the control room, sucked loudly on the straw of his iced latte. “Did you get some practice this weekend?”

  “No. I was busy,” I said, giving him my most innocent look.

  His lips stretched into a grin, and Abel looked between us, his face darkening with suspicion. “I’d ask if Cole was giving you some tips, but I know there is no way in hell he could teach you anything about your instrument.”

  Cole bounced a foam stress ball against Abel’s chest. “Asshole.”

  I laughed at them. It was past seven, and I was eager to get some dinner at home.

  “Hey, how was your Through Azure Skies practice yesterday?” Ezra asked, recalling our discussion on Saturday.

  “It got cancelled,” I said as I zipped up the guitar case. “Liam’s future in-laws extended their visit, so we’re going to meet up on Thursday evening. That reminds me, are you okay if I leave just before six that day?”

  Ezra wore a small frown when I looked up. “Yeah, of course. So you haven’t talked to them yet about continuing together?”

  “Nah. It’s okay, though. We’ll talk on Thursday.”

  Silas gave me a questioning look. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re trying to figure out if we can keep playing together after Mason leaves for college. I’m going to try convince them it’s a good idea, as per Ezra’s and Cole’s encouragement,” I told him.

  The guitarist glanced between the two of them. “First time I support someone following their advice.”

  “You guys are being such haters today,” Cole called out. “What is it? Jealous of how good my hair looks or something?”

  “Nah, just your annoying good mood,” Silas fired back.

  I turned away, not wanting my face to accidentally reveal my thoughts. Today had been one of the most productive recording days we’d had, and despite not wanting it to be so, I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with what had happened on the weekend.

  I hadn’t been home for two hours when I got a text from an unknown number.

  “I’m going back to the studio to write tonight.”

  It must be Abel. The text caught me by surprise, given his abrupt departure from the studio after our first and only late-night session.

  “Okay?” I texted him back. Was it an invitation? An FYI in case someone showed up at his house in the middle of the night and found that he wasn’t there? I wasn’t going to assume he was inviting me to come. No, if he wanted me there, he’d have to spell it out.

  “You coming?”

  I read out the response in his voice in my head, seeing the cocked brow and arrogant stance. A part of me was annoyed at how intently he’d pretended our last session had never happened. He’d shown me a glimpse of the pain he bore only to shut right down moments later. Maybe that was easy for him to do, but for me, writing together was pure intimacy. I couldn’t turn it on and off like it was no more than a bath faucet.

  But he was still grieving, and yes, that did make me want to give him a pass. My muse hadn’t visited me since that one night, so I didn’t have high hopes I’d be able to write anything. But I could keep him company while he wrote if that helped him.

  “See you at 10.”

  I got to the studio before Abel. The motion-activated lights in the hallways clicked on one by one as I made my way to our recording room. Remnants of our earlier session—scattered guitar picks, empty coffee cups, snack wrappers—had been taken by the cleaning staff, and the control room struck me as unusually cold. I was only wearing a heather-gray T-shirt on top, and by the time Abel walked through the door, I was rubbing my arms to get rid of goosebumps.

  His hair was twisted in a bun at the nape of his neck, revealing the full contours of his face. Beneath an unzipped hoodie, he wore a wrinkled white T-shirt, but neither this detail, nor the fact th
at he looked like he’d just woken from a nap detracted from his otherworldly beauty. When our eyes met, I sucked in a breath.

  “Hey,” he said, running his gaze over me before shrugging off the hoodie and handing it to me.

  “Oh, no, I’m okay,” I said, pushing his hand back.

  “Just take it. You’re covered in goosebumps.” He tossed the item at me, and I caught it instinctively.

  I blinked at him and pulled the hoodie on. It was still warm and smelled like him. “Fine. Since we’re making observations, you look tired.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well. Which is why I’m up doing this.” He opened his arms and gestured to the room.

  The bags under his eyes seemed to grow more prominent. I had initially missed that detail, distracted by how undone he looked.

  Seeing him like this was intimacy, I realized. However badly he’d been sleeping, he always looked collected and ready to go during the day. This side of him—part weary, part uncertain—didn’t come out around the guys, but he was making an exception with me.

  My stomach fluttered at the thought. Fuck. I just slept with two of his friends in an attempt to exorcise these kinds of reactions, yet here I was, as affected by Abel as ever.

  He studied me for a moment and then pulled out his guitar.

  “I worked some more on the song from before.”

  He began to play the familiar melody. I was surprised to hear he hadn’t changed much of what we’d written before, but he had filled in some of the gaps that had remained at the end of our last session.

  I started to strum along, making mental notes of a few spots I thought could use some reworking.

  “What do you think?” he asked me hesitantly when the song finished.

  “I think it’s really good, Abel. It feels…honest.”

  I thought I saw a flash of satisfaction on his face, but it was gone before I could be sure.

  “It still needs work. What parts sounded off to you?”

  I opened my mouth, then changed my mind and pinched my lips. “Look, it’s your song. Any further feedback from me would be just stylistic preference.”