A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (75)

Colton kicked back. “At eighteen? Sure. I wanted it all. Stardom. Adoring fans. Girls screaming my name. A mansion in Nashville. Enough money to light it on fire and not even miss it.”

“And you got it all.”

“I did. But there’s a price to it as well. Don’t let anyone force you into something you’re not ready for yet.”

J. T. bit his lip. “My dad said I’d better get a manager soon or I’ll miss my shot.”

“A good manager who recognizes talent won’t get sick of waiting.”

“But my dad said—”

“Who wants this, J. T.? You or your dad?”

“I do. But, I mean, he wants it for me too.”

“But he doesn’t have to do the work. He doesn’t have to pour his heart out into a song and then hear people trash it. He doesn’t have to spend months on the road touring. He doesn’t have to carry the burden of knowing that other people’s lives depend on your success. It’s your life and your music. Don’t let anyone else craft an image for you just because they think it will sell. Sooner or later, that image will start to feel like a costume that you just don’t want to wear anymore. You gotta do what makes you happy.”

A snarky pft from the general direction of the bar told him that Duff was listening to every word.

Colton sat back against the booth. “So after all that . . . would you like to work with me?”

J. T.’s mouth spread into such a goofy, earnest grin that Colton had to hide his own behind his disgusting beer. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” The kid let out a whoop. “I can’t believe this. Holy shit.”

Colton felt like Santa Claus, like he’d just delivered the season’s most sought-after toy that had been sold out for a month. A lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time about his career spread through his chest.

“Go get set up,” he said, rubbing his hand over the spot in his chest that suddenly felt warm. “I’m in the mood for a jam session.”

“You—you want to play with me right now?”

“Why not? Let’s see what we can do.”

J. T. tripped over his own guitar as he awkwardly slid from the booth. He’d barely vacated his seat before Duff claimed it. The old man plunked a bottle of CAW 1869 and a sort-of clean glass in front of Colton.

Colton poured a short shot and tipped the glass in Duff’s direction. “I knew you liked me.”

On the stage behind them, J. T. strummed a few warm-up chords and paused to tune the strings.

“That was a nice speech you gave him.” Duff smirked. “You believe any of it?”

“Aren’t you sick of psychoanalyzing me yet?”

“Aren’t you sick of avoiding my questions yet?”

“Come on, man. I’m on top of the world. Shit’s finally going my way.”

“So I guess you found what you were looking for.”

“I did.” Colton spread his hands out wide and adopted his bad British accent again, this time to quote the Ghost of Christmas Past. “?‘Would you so soon put out the light I give?’?”

Duff poured a shot for himself. “That quote doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Jesus, not this again. Why did everyone think they knew the meaning of A Christmas Carol better than he did? But he took the bait anyway. “Fine. What does it mean?”

“That your journey ain’t complete until you’re willing to stare into the glare of your own past.”





CHAPTER TWENTY


Gretchen couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this nervous.

The next night, Colton met her on the front porch when she pulled up to his house. He wore those sexy jeans again and a T-shirt, and two thoughts came to her mind. First, he was too damn good-looking. Second, coming home to him was too damn appealing.

He left the doorway and met her halfway up the porch stairs. “Okay, so I should warn you.”

“Uh-oh.”

He dropped a kiss on her upturned face. “My family is really, really eager to meet you.”

“Are they going to scream Oh my God, she’s here! and all that stuff again?”

“I guarantee it.”

Colton reached for her hand, and she folded her fingers into his and let him lead her inside. He swung the door shut, kissed her again, and— “Oh my God! She’s here!”

Colton laughed against her lips. High-pitched shrieks blended with childish giggles and the pitter-patter of feet all headed their way.

“Where is she?” The question came from a tone of voice that had Mom written all over it.

“Don’t scare her, Mom, geez.” That came from a younger woman’s voice.

Gretchen clutched her hands in front of her and then let them drop and then clutched them again. Breathe. She could do this. Colton placed his hand on her back and led her into the living room just as his family emerged from the kitchen.

Colton smiled at her as if nothing were amiss. “This is Gretchen,” he said, beaming at her as if he really were proud to show her off.

Gretchen lifted her hand in a wave and then mentally used the same hand to smack herself. Who the hell waves?

Without warning, Colton’s mother threw her arms around Gretchen’s neck. “Oh my gosh, I am so excited to meet you.”