Alcohol You Later (33)

Lyle and I ecstatically praise the babies while Nick turns an awful shade of green, frantically looking around the room. He’s like a caged animal desperately seeking escape.

“Just go lock yourself in your room and bang on your drums, Nicholas.” I don’t even try to disguise the disgust I feel at his childish behavior. “God forbid you offer your children a little encouragement.” Slamming my hands down on the granite, I rise to my feet, grabbing the plate and throwing it into the sink with the built-in disposal. “Hurry,” I add while he stirs beside me. “Before one of them touches you.”

His wounded eyes shoot to mine, begging for—forgiveness? Understanding. Too bad for him, I’m fresh out of both.

“What’s your problem, Ray?”

I shrug away when he reaches for my arm. “You’re stoned.”

“So?” Genuine confusion mars his face.

“So, your babies are living on this bus.”

“That’s why I didn’t smoke on the bus.”

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to live in his head. To be so clueless and self-serving. “They deserve better than this, Nicholas.”

He scoffs. “At least we’re in agreement there.”

“I don’t mean they’re better off without you.” Moisture builds in my eyes. “They deserve better from you.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “You had it right the first time, pretty girl.”





Brant, one of the roadies, runs up on us as we’re crossing the lot on our way back to the buses. “A couple of us are heading over to Buckaroos on Bourbon for a nightcap.” He grins. “Anika got the VIP room reserved for the band. Who’s in?”

My cousin levels Rhett with an icy glare, promising hell on earth if he were to even entertain the idea. “Not this time, man. Pregnancy’s knockin’ Kor on her ass.”

“Figured as much. Just thought I’d ask.” He waves them off when they start to walk away. “Maybe next time,” he calls after them.

Aiden and Lyle share a sequence of brow lifts, shoring each other up with their decision.

“Fuck, yeah, we’re coming!” Lyle claps Brant on the shoulder. “Always down for a little after-show kitty.”

I’m usually the first to indulge in a willing woman. These after parties have them in droves, but knowing what I’ve got waiting for me in my bed back on the bus? The thought of hooking up with anyone else is downright repulsive. Plus, I promised my dude no groupies, and I’m a man of my word. “Not this time.”

“Things are getting pretty serious with you and Raven, yeah?” the nosey fucker pries, waggling his bushy brows. “You haven’t been out once since she arrived.” He looks toward the cityscape. “We’re in Nola, bro. Doesn’t get much better than this.”

“We’re friends.” It’s becoming more and more difficult to say that with any conviction. The line I’ve held fast to all these years is getting murkier by the minute, despite my steadfast resolve to keep it in place. “I’m not enough of a dick that I’m gonna go out and leave her behind with my kids, man.”

“Right…”

His cynical smirk has my blood simmering. Getting ragged on by the guys doesn’t usually affect me. It’s what we do. But I haven’t been myself since these babies arrived. All I know is I can’t wait for them to go back to their grandparents and for my life to return to some kind of normal.

It’s tearing me up, watching Raven fall in love with those children, all the while knowing I’ll be solely to blame for her broken heart when they go back. I should have known better than to involve her. Her capacity to love is greater than anyone I’ve ever known. Hell, the fact that she puts up with me—cares for me—is a testament to that. But no matter how much I care for her, and I do, this is no life for a child.

She has to see that.

I’ll make her see it.

“Friends…” the ballsy roadie taunts when I move to walk away. “I need me a friend like that.”

“Don’t,” I warn, my voice taking a hard edge. “Raven’s important to me. You will not disrespect her.”

“Yeah,” Lyle snorts. “He’s the only one allowed to do that.” I pretend not to hear his words muttered in anger, because I don’t want to have to punch his fucking face in. That would not sit well with Ray, and I’ve got some ass-kissing to do as it is.

“Whatever you say, Nick.” Brant backs up, hands held out in surrender. “Didn’t realize it was like that, sheesh.”

Shaking my head, I resume the trek back to my bus, my mind awash with thoughts and feelings I can’t make sense of. Truth is, I didn’t realize it was like that, either. I don’t even know what that is. But I’ve become borderline insane with jealousy over the bond she’s forming with Lyle.

Lyle, of all people. My fucking bandmate. I know there’s nothing there, and yet I can’t seem to control myself around them. I was a total dick to her earlier. To both of them. The two people cleaning up my mess.

The memory has me increasing my pace to a jog, eager to get back and make amends—to show her how sorry I am. One touch is all it’ll take to restore our connection—to have her burning for me once again—and to fill the gaping wound in my chest that’s been festering since we last spoke at breakfast.