Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(129)

Fucking gorgeous.

Innocent.

Unaware.

Finally she made her way back to me. But she moved differently in my space, all that ease she floated around the room on ripped from beneath her feet, replaced with caution and concern, like she knew exactly what was on my mind and she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to be around me.

Wasn’t sure I trusted myself either.

But here I was.

Curious.

Curious.

Curious.

“How are you doing over here?” she asked.

Eyeing her over the top of the glass, I took another sip. My tongue darted out to gather the moisture, the girl watching like she wanted to dip down and get a taste of the tequila coating my tongue.

Every ounce of blood in my body rushed and surged, my cock all too aware of the look on her face.

“Just fine.”

She dropped a dishcloth to the table and began wiping it down.

Stalling.

Stalling.

Stalling.

“Long day?” she asked, peeking up at me with warm caramel eyes.

“Too long.”

Another long fucking day. Worse than yesterday. Reality was finally setting in.

Caving in, really.

The entire day had been spent fretting about Austin, attempting to engage him in conversation like a normal family would, knowing we weren’t anything close to normal. Hating what he’d overheard between Anthony and me. Worried he’d slip. All the while I’d worried about the guys who had to adjust to one more piece being knocked out of this busted-up band.

A world tour was huge and having it canceled was a blow none of us knew how to handle. All day, Ash had acted like a pussy bitch, moping and knocking shit around like a disgruntled teenager, while Lyrik stayed locked up in his room, strains of his guitar filtering through the enormous house. Only Zachary remained upbeat, because that was just his style, always trying to lift everyone up when he really should have been the one who was at their lowest.

Zachary, or Zee like he’d picked up when he was a kid, was Mark’s little brother and he’d been eager to fill his brother’s shoes when we lost him, whether to serve out some kind of penance or as a tribute, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he did his best to try and erase the void Mark had left.

But those voids? You couldn’t fill them.

I knew better than that.

Her eyes narrowed more. “Where are you from?”

For a second, I hesitated, before I cocked my head and draped my arms out across the back of the booth. “California.” A thick lump gathered at the base of my throat, before I forced myself to say it. “I’m Sebastian. But my friends call me Baz.”

As casual as could be, while inside I was fucking shaking, thinking saying it would clue her in. There was something desperate inside me that didn’t want her to know who I was.

Like maybe for a few hours she could make me forget who I was.

Make me forget.

I waited as my introduction penetrated her, and there was zero recognition behind it. Instead her eyes flashed with a second’s disappointment.

“Oh,” she said, and there was no missing the lilt of her accent. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Sebastian from California. I’m Shea.”

This girl was country. Through and through. Pretty damned sure even if I uttered the name Sunder she’d have no clue what I was talking about.

Suddenly I was picturing her in a car, top down, blonde hair whipping all around her face while she gripped the steering wheel and belted out a Faith Hill song or some shit.

The thought made me smile.

“What are you grinning at?”

“You.”

Heat gathered on her chest, raced up her neck to burn hot on her cheeks, and she was looking at me like she couldn’t believe the statement I’d made.

And if it wasn’t the cutest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

“Go out with me.” The words were out before I could stop them.

And God, it was stupid, because I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a girl. Didn’t need or want that kind of trouble in my life. I had enough of it as it was. Ash and Lyrik fucked around all the time, ate up the girls who threw themselves at us after every show, and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t taken advantage of that kind of situation on far too many occasions. But somehow about six months ago I’d gone and got stupid, hooked up with one of those Hollywood princesses with a too-bright smile, fake tits, and a starved-out body. Not that she wasn’t pretty and fun, because she was, but she’d gone and bailed on me the second things went south. She told me I was a publicity problem.

She wanted the look but not the real thing.

Fuck that.

Sad thing was, I really didn’t care. I didn’t miss her or wonder where we would have ended up had I kept my cool instead of coming unhinged.

But Shea? This girl staring at me with those wide eyes? I wanted to escape into her layers, to skim along the surface, and get lost in the beauty. To feel the shyness. To sink beneath, deeper into that pent-up confusion and dark.

To feel her storm.

Just for a little while.

Make me forget.

Shea startled, before she shook her head, dropping it as she cleared away my spent drink and tossed a couple fresh napkins onto the table. “I don’t really date.”

I forced some kind of lightness into my voice. “Boyfriend?”