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Inside the hospital room, a very pretty nurse is tucking the blanket around Rudd.
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are?” Rudd is saying as we walk in.
“Yes, a couple of times.”
“It needs to be said a couple of times,” he drawls. “Maybe a hundred times so that whatever deity made you understands we appreciate her good work.”
“You’re cute,” the nurse says, patting him on the shoulder.
“I’ll take the compliment and your number.”
She waves as she walks out.
“I’m serious,” he calls out, sitting up. He groans and clutches his waist.
I rush forward. “Lie down, you fool.”
“I’m the fool?” he says but does as I order. “Heard you and Davis were out in the parking lot doing a little WWE.”
“We were just messing around,” I lie.
Davis crosses to the other side of the room. Rudd rolls his head in Davis’s direction. “Found out about your sister and Adam, huh?”
Davis throws up his arms. “You knew, too?”
“Duh,” Rudd says, lying back. “Everyone did.”
“Everyone?” The two Olsens chorus together.
Rudd grins. “You can tell you two are related. You’re both clueless as fuck.” He rolls his head on the pillow until he can face me. “Hey, man, I’m sorry about this. I know this is going screw up your plans. You should get a session guitarist to fill in for me.”
A chorus of protests erupt. I gape at Rudd. “A session guitarist? I’m not filling your position. What would make you think that?”
He shrugs. “You’ve got your plans for the band.”
The band. Not our band. Rudd has played with me for over five years. I find a chair to settle my ass onto.
“This is your band, too,” I say. “It belongs to all of us. Even Davis. While you’re recovering, D and I will kiss and make up.”
“I hope I get to watch that,” Berry chimes in from the corner. Next to her, Ian smirks.
“But Hollister mentioned Burning Man. That’s a big fucking deal,” Rudd moans.
“We’d have to take a break anyway,” I inform him. “Because WWR has offered us an album deal.”
“WWR?” He shoots upright. “Are you kidding me? What’d you say?”
“That I had to talk to you all about it.”
He flops back on the pillows. “Shit. I wish I could drink. We should be toasting this moment.”
“I’ll write a new song. One about how the best things take you by surprise,” I joke.
“Or Davis could write the lyrics while you write the melody and Ian and Rudd can lay down the beat,” Landry suggests.
My lips curve up. I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to me. “That’s perfect. See, this is why you need to stay with the band.”
