Alcohol You Later (31)

My eyes widen to the size of saucers. “He didn’t?”

“Nah.” Nick’s entire body tenses, and it feels as if the world stops spinning as I await his next words. “I wish. Fucking shot himself instead.”

My hand shoots to cover my mouth, and there’s no helping the gasp that slips out.

“I was the one who found him the next morning…in our spot.” His throat clears. “He was supposed to be going to bed and the fucker came right back with a gun instead.”

“I—I don’t know what to say, Nick.”

“Nothin’ to say, doll.” He slides his arm out from under me, sitting upright in the bed. “People leave.” He swings his legs over the side, preparing to do just that.

I make no attempt to stop him. “Not everyone.” I stroke a gentle finger over the fresh ink on the back of his neck. “I won’t ever leave you.”

Nick reaches over his shoulder for my hand, placing a barely-there kiss on the tips of my fingers before rising to his feet and heading for the door. “Get some sleep, Ray,” he calls back on his way out. “Babies won’t be back for a few hours yet. I’m gonna go get some work in.”





It’s been nearly a week since Nick confided in me about what happened with his friend, and he’s been in a major funk ever since—here physically, but in no way present. I haven’t seen him spare either of his children more than a passing glance. And I’ve been making excuses for him…to myself. To the band. To his cousin. But more and more I’m starting to think his behavior has less to do with his trauma and everything to do with avoiding Alex and Ava.

Nick’s performance on stage, I’m told, is as high energy and flawless as ever. Yet we go most of the day without speaking more than a few words to each other.

He still comes for me at night, once the twins are asleep on travel days. And he can’t bury himself inside of me fast enough when he’s riding high after a show.

There’s no disconnect in the bedroom.

Just everywhere else.

If it wasn’t for Lyle stepping in to help me with the kids, I don’t know what I’d do. The adult conversation alone is doing wonders to keep me sane. I feel bad for never trying to get to know him before now, always dismissing him as the idiot kid of the group. He’s got a reputation for being immature and spoiled—fed from a silver spoon. Lyle joined the band after they’d already been signed and is the only one of the group who came from money. You best believe they don’t let him forget it.

Despite all of this, when the shit hit the fan, he stepped in without hesitation to care for Nick’s children. I guess his ability to bond and nurture could be considered a luxury in this crowd, as well. Maybe he, like me, feels guilty for his lack of childhood damage. It would explain the way he’s so tolerant of Nick’s abhorrent behavior.

“Mornin’ gorgeous.”

I smile at Lyle positioned behind the island while twisting my sex-mussed hair up into a messy bun. I’m overcome with relief at the welcome sight before me. The babies are strapped in their seats, chowing down on scrambled eggs and breakfast sausage while watching Cocomelon on the flat screen built in beneath the cabinets.

“Morning, friend. Thanks for letting me sleep in. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.” As if my words conjured it, I punctuate that thought with a massive yawn, as I scan the room.

Lyle offers me a sympathetic sigh. “He was gone long before I got up.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “He should be the one fixing these kids breakfast.” There’s no hiding the disappointment in my tone. It’s the first time I’ve given a voice to the niggling annoyance that’s been steadily building inside me toward Nicholas over the past few days. I’m through justifying his careless behavior.

Still, saying anything remotely negative about the man has me chewing on the guilt that’s now climbing in my throat.

“Won’t get any argument about that from me.” He shrugs. But he doesn’t look nearly as bothered as I feel over the way Nick’s blatantly taking advantage of him. And I just don’t get it.

“Has he even thanked you?”

Lyle runs a hand over his washboard stomach, his impressive abs in no way hidden beneath that flimsy gray tank. He offers a lazy smile, and quirks one brow, as he leans across the countertop, bringing himself closer. “Has he thanked you?”

Guess that’s a no.

“Not recently.” My skin pricks with ire. “Not since the first day or two when he was working to convince me to stay.”

He nods, repositioning himself in front of his food. “He just needs more time.” Lyle forks a bite of sausage into his mouth. “The guy’s whole world just got flipped upside down. He’ll come around.”

I nod, resolutely. “I hope so.” But my confidence in the man is waning fast. “Everyone knows why I’m here…” I roll my eyes to myself over how desperate I must seem to the rest of the band and the crew. “Apart from maybe Nicholas himself. But why are you doing this?” I look to the precious babies, so innocent and seemingly unaffected by the massive shitshow their lives have recently become. “You’ve been so great with them.”

He shrugs. “Got a soft spot for the little ones.” His smile is so genuine—so warm. “The road gets lonely, ya know? Same shit day after day. I’m just missing my siblings, I guess.”