Jace disappears, but he returns a minute later with some paper towels, which he offers to me. “This was all I could find.”
“Thanks.” I dry my face.
“Damn, I think you cut yourself.” He motions to my knees where blood seeps through my flowy floral skirt.
I tug up the fabric and take stock of my scrapes. “This is from Saturday.” I lift up my arms to inspect the scratches on my elbows that are also bleeding. Wonderful.
“What happened on Saturday?” He crouches next to me with what seems like genuine concern on his face.
I turn away, needing space. I think I liked him more when he ignored me. “I tripped.”
The fire department rushes in and makes everyone move away from the gaping hole.
All of a sudden, there’s another Walker with a similar pair of green eyes in my space. It’s Beau, Honey’s fiancé. But he gives me a kind smile that immediately puts me at ease. “Hey, Rory. What’s going on here?”
I point to the hole above us. “Chicken Little was right. The sky is falling.”
He chuckles. “I liked that book when I was a kid.”
“It’s a good one.”
“Well, let’s get you out of the way in case any more of the ceiling decides to collapse. Can you stand?”
I nod. “I think I just had the wind knocked out of me.”
Beau’s brows knit together. “Did the ceiling actually land on you? Let’s check your head. Just want to make sure you didn’t knock it.”
“Something landed on me. Wasn’t the ceiling, though.”
Jace crouches down next to me again. “I landed on the little bird. Almost squished her. But I figured it was better than letting the floor above us crush her.”
Little bird?
He and Beau have some kind of silent communication that only siblings can have, but then Beau’s checking the back of my head.
“I cradled her head. Or at least, I think it was her head.” Jace holds his arms out like he’s trying to remember how it all happened.
I take stock of his words. He cradled my head?
I’m about to thank him when his phone buzzes, and he’s lost in the screen again.
Just as well.
4
JACE
“One more song, Jace!”someone screams.
It’s another Saturday night in another bar. But we’re hitting all the right notes, synced in a way only a band that’s played together for a decade can be, and the crowd feels it.
“One more, huh? I think we’re supposed to wrap it up.” I glance back at the guys as though we haven’t planned the finale. “Fuck it, let’s do another.”
The girls scream again as Cooper hits the floor tom, and I feel that deep rumble in my chest. I nod with the beat, and when I play the familiar riff on my guitar, the shouts grow.
“You might know this song. If you do, sing along.” Sweat stings my eyes, and the tips of my fingers ache from practicing all afternoon and playing tonight, but there’s no high like the one you get from a great show, and I ride the wave of adrenaline. “This one’s called ‘Red Light.’” I used to resent that this was the song everyone wants to hear, but I’m over it now.
Everyone sings to the chorus.
