The Lucy Jane fandom is already shipping us.
Am I?
Do I even want to entertain this?
I’ve had a crush on that man for, what, fourteen years? Since his Duncan and Nash days. When their band broke up after maybe the best debut album of all time (sorry, Momma), I literally cried in my room.
They were such an inspiration to me.
Duncan was always a recluse and kind of a jerk with interviewers—he kept his hair in his face like some Kurt Cobain wannabe and refused to ever take a picture where he was actually looking at the camera.
Dumb, right?
Yet his reluctance to be seen—his refusal to be known—empowered me to create my Lucy Jane account and keepmyface hidden.
Nash, on the other hand, was the voice of the band—its charming (and undeniably hot) face, too. His effortless charisma and impeccable manners made him an instant media darling. When he went solo, I was nervous he wouldn’t live up to the hype. Somehow, he exceeded it.
His songs had the grit and soul of blues, the toe-tapping charm of classic country. It was like he’d poured a bit of himself into every note and chord.
The only problem—and I would never tell anyone this—was his voice.
It was smooth and polished as a river stone, while Duncan’s was a jagged rock tumbling down a cliff. When it hit you, it didn’t just hurt—it cracked you open. Left you bleeding with every lyric that poured out of him.
But Nash’s voice is beautiful, like silk or warm honey. And let’s be honest:he’sbeautiful.
If his texts and social media flirting are any indication, he feels the same way about me.
I ain’t mad about it.
“How are you and Patty getting along?”
I give an ugly snort. “He’s a burr in my saddle.”
Millie laughs and grabs a Diet Coke from the ice bucket. She cracks it open, and the hiss makes her smile. My girl loves her some Diet Coke. I grab a water—no headache for once. The cool bottle feels good in my hands, and I’m relieved not to need caffeine to fight off a migraine. Maybe tonight, I’ll get a full night’s sleep.
“What does your band think about him being your bodyguardandsound guy?” Millie asks.
I shrug, raising and dropping my shoulders. Millie’s furrowed brow tells me she’s thinking about this more than she’s letting on.
“You’re not getting close to them?”
“I’ve got enough friends.”
Millie shakes her head as we walk over to rejoin the Janes and their significant others.
Oh, and Patty.
“What are you two disagreeing about?” Ash asks, her head leaning on Rusty’s shoulder.
“We’re not disagreeing,” I say. “Just a friendly chat.”
“In which we disagree,” Millie adds with a pointed look. “Relationships aren’t a distraction.”
I pop a huge scoop of guacamole in my mouth.
“Tell Winona that,” I say through the food.
Millie gives me her classic therapist look—the one that works on everyone but the Janes… and her cute four-year-old daughter, who’s currently asleep on her daddy’s lap on the couch. That girl can sleep anywhere.
