Absorbed(24)

If I wasn’t so worried about her—or still focused on nothing but the video shoot—I would have missed the ring. But I see it—f*ck, it’s impossible not to see it. And I feel all my muscles tighten up. “I’d be dumb as f*ck if I asked if that was a purity ring or whatever the hell they call them, huh?”

Placing the partially eaten apple onto her lap, she brings her hand to her chest, covering her ring finger with her other hand. “If purity means married then I guess you’re not so dumb after all.”

“He proposed to you?” I demand, but she shakes her head. I’m about to ask her if someone else proposed, but she clears her throat.

“We, ah, sealed the deal in Vegas. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I know you’ve been busy with all the band stuff.”

Too busy to give a shit about something like this? “Kylie,” I groan, but she holds up her hands defensively and leans in close.

“And before you even ask, no, I’m not pregnant.”

Because our conversation is just getting started, it suddenly has to come to a close because there are a few timid knocks at the dressing room door. Melanie peeks inside and Kylie and I both glance over at her.

“Mr. Wolfe, we’re ready for you again.”





Chapter Fourteen


Lucas Wolfe





No matter how much time passes by, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that motherf*cker Wyatt being married to my kid sister. I should’ve known it would happen, but maybe I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit to notice what was happening around me.

Then again, I should’ve been expecting her to quit on me too. But while I was getting ready for the tour and the launch of my own stuff, I failed to see that one coming. She breaks the news to me about a month after her crazy ass Vegas stunt, and for someone who isn’t easily surprised, I’m f*cking stunned.

“I should make your ass pay for lunch,” I tell her. She’d convinced me to take her to some new Italian restaurant that had ended up being shit—plus I spent half the lunch signing napkins and tits for a group of fans that had noticed me. “Really, Kylie? Right before the goddamn tour?”

She presses her lips together into a thin white line. “Have you listened to a single word I’ve said, Lucas?”

I down the rest of my beer, which is lukewarm and flat. “I heard Wyatt, New Orleans, and sorry. Did I miss something?”

“You’re being a dick.” She digs her fork into my spaghetti, eats it, and makes a face at the taste. “Okay, that is gross. Sorry, Lucas.”

I shrug. “I’m more worried about you and McCrae picking up and moving to Louisiana. Fuck the shitty food.” I signal our waitress and mouth a request for the check. “You sure you going to be okay, Ky?”

“I plan on keeping you in line even from New Orleans. I would never quit on you.”

“But are you going to be okay?” I repeat.

“I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think I’d be okay.” She grabs the bill the moment our waitress sets it on our table. “Don’t worry, I got this one.”

Yeah, probably out of her business credit card. I watch her carefully as she digs in her wallet for a credit card, and I’m surprised when she uses cash. “So, why the move?”

Sliding the money to the edge of the table, she lifts her shoulders. “New start. We’ve got so much baggage around here, and so much good history there, that it seems smart. And you’re only a few hours away by flight.” When I just stare at her, she heaves a sigh. “If you had Sienna back in your life right now—if you could have that new start—wouldn’t you pick up and leave?”

Of course I would. “Without a f*cking doubt.”

A slow smile builds on my sister’s face. “So you understand where I’m coming from?” When I give her a little gesture that isn’t a negative or a positive, she adds, “You accept this, right? Because I feel like I need that from you before I start telling everyone else what I’ve done.”

When Kylie talks like this, it puts me in a shitty place. She has to know that. I wait until after our waitress carries off the bill and cash to tell her, “I accept everything that makes you happy.”

She sinks back into the booth. “Good. Like, incredibly good. Hell, Lucas, I was more afraid of dealing with you than I was of Dad.”

“You should be.”