Luc studies me for a moment. Then he looks back at Mikey. “Run it again.” This time Luc leans in, listening harder. When it finishes, he stands and smiles wide. “You’re right,” he points a finger at Mikey. “That’s amazing.”
Something shifts in Mikey’s expression; surprise, relief, and pride all mixing together. He glances at me briefly. It’s the briefest of looks. But it lands deep in my chest. Like he felt it too. The rest of the evening blurs into music and laughter. I lose track of time watching them work, watching Mikey move through the space with a confidence I hadn’t fully understood before.
Every so often he looks toward me. Not checking to see if I’m bored, just checking. Like he wants me there, or wants to makes sure I’m still here. At one point he leans over as they reset equipment. “We’re gonna run this one more time,” he whispers into my ear. “This time, it’s gonna get loud at the end.”
The casual inclusion makes something warm bloom in my chest. He says it like I belong in the rhythm of what’s happening. Like I’m part of it. When they finally wrap for the night and everyone starts packing up, the energy softens again. Luc claps Mikey on his shoulder on his way out. “Great idea tonight, brother.”
Mikey nods, trying to play it cool, but I catch the small smile he can’t quite hide. Pride swells inside me. Not loud. Just quiet and steady. I’m proud of him. The realization hits me hard enough that I look away for a second. When did that happen?
Outside, the air is cooler, the suburban houses buzzing softly around us. We walk side by side to his car. No rush. No pressure. He bumps his shoulder lightly against mine. “Thanks for coming.”
I glance up at him. “You invited me.”
“Yeah, I know.” One hand reaches up and grabs onto the back of his neck as he looks over at me. “I just liked having you there.”
That lands differently than it did a week ago, and something flips softly in my chest. His hand drops and then brushes mine as we walk. Then his fingers curl around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s no hesitation. Just instinct. I don’t pull away. We keep walking, hand in hand, comfortable silence stretching between us.
And for the first time since the apartment call, the uncertainty quiets. Maybe I don’t need answers yet. Maybe this, this easy, steady feeling, is enough for now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mikey
Iris
The Goo Goo Dolls
I wakeup before she does. It takes a second to remember why my chest feels full.
Then I feel her. Warm against my side. One leg thrown across mine again like she claimed the space in her sleep without asking permission. Her hair is a mess across my chest, her hand tucked under her cheek. She looks like she belongs here. That thought lands too easily. My brain doesn’t like that.
Monday morning flashes through me; her phone in my hand, the realtor’s voice, the word apartment. The way she looked at me after I told her.Southport. Yours if you want it.
She hadn’t said yes at that point. But she hadn’t said no either. I stare at her for a long minute, watching her breathe. Temporary. The word slams into me before I can stop it.This is temporary.
She’s not going to stay in my bed forever. She’s not going to keep curling into me like this once she has her own place. She’snot going to keep leaving food on the counter when I’m late. I can’t get used to this. Can’t get attached.I already am.
I shift carefully, sliding out from under her. She stirs but doesn’t wake. My hand almost goes back to brush her hair from her face.Almost.BecauseI stop myself. Distance. Just a little. Enough that it won’t so much hurt later. When she is gone.
I head into the kitchen and start the coffee. Because I’m not a monster. Because even if I’m pulling back, I’m not going to leave her without caffeine. I pour a mug and set it by the machine so it stays warm. Then I grab a sticky note from the drawer.
Studio early.
Stop stealing all the blankets.
I stare at it. Am I being too soft? I leave it anyway then grab my keys and pause by the hallway. I could go back and kiss her goodbye. I don’t.
The studio feels louder than usual. Or maybe it’s just me. I play harder. Hit sharper. Push tempo without meaning to. Dean glances at me once during a take, brow slightly raised. Luc doesn’t say anything. He just watches.
When we break, I check my phone. There’s a message from Quinn.
Thanks for making me coffee. Keep me warmer then.
I stare at the screen longer than necessary. I could send something flirty. Instead:
Welcome.
I hit send before I overthink it. Three dots appear.
