Page 91 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

It was definitely better than trying to squeeze together on the tiny full mattress.

“So… now I know how you met. But where’d you come from? Before I was taking up all your time at practice and stealing you away on tour, what were you doing?”

Adra stiffened slightly, and she wrapped her arm across his stomach, mirroring Emerson’s movements with her own thumb across Adra’s skin.

“Did you not read all our files? They had us take everything but a polygraph,” Emerson murmured.

Lyric pressed her lips together, something akin to shame flooding her cheeks. But she had nothing to be ashamed of. “I never read them. I left it to Andi, trusted her to tell me if something was worth knowing. It felt wrong to know everything about you and not know you. So I decided not to.”

She didn’t say it out loud, but they were both still mysteries to her. The only things she knew about them were how well they played music… and what their moans sounded like between the sheets.

No, that’s not completely true.

She knew Adra was sweeter than the words he substituted curses with. Sugar. Fudge. Understood they both cared for each other, even if it wasn’t conventional. She also saw the way Adra treasured his equipment, which she’d come to realize meant he wasn’t used to such nice things.

It made her want to spoil him even more.

She knew Emerson was rough around the edges, but he was also filled with his own insecurities and wasn’t afraid to admit to them, even if he didn’t know how to conquer them. That was why he played in the shadows every night. Why he wore those wide brimmed hats to hide his face from the crowd.

“Everyone knows my story,” Adra admitted quietly.

She glanced up at him, but his eyes were closed, brows knotted.

“It was the story of the year. An alpha, the odd one out of the pack, the band.”

Lyric’s heart ached, seizing in her chest, and her hand tightened on Adra’s side. His eyes blinked open, and he stared down at her as if he’d forgotten she was there.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t apologize. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but… I’ll listen.”

It fell quiet, so she lowered her head and resumed her slow strokes over his skin, content to let the beat of his heart lull her to sleep. His hand caught hers, engulfing it, and he brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

“The omega didn’t like me,” he began, and Lyric’s breath caught. “It wasn’t anything personal, not really. We just didn’t fit, at least, not like she did with the others. She didn’t like my scent, and I didn’t really care for hers. I knew better than to butt heads with her, but I wanted to. We didn’t see things the same way, and ultimately, we both knew I didn’t belong. She’s not the bad guy here, neither of us are. It was just one of those…”

“Really fucking shitty situations,” Emerson grumbled.

Adra chuckled. “Yes. That kind of situation. But… it’s not all bad. Once I left the pack, the band, I played with my own music more, learned how to live outside of a pack.”

“For how long?” Lyric asked, fear creeping up. Even though she knew how his story ended—here on the floor with her and Emerson—she still wanted to know that he’d been okay. Alphas didn’t live alone. They weren’t supposed to learn how to live outside of a pack, and she didn’t like the way the thought made her chest ache.

“Maybe… three months? Then I met Emerson.”

“I needed a roomie,” Emerson grunted. “Adra needed somewhere to live. Two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.”

Relief eased the tightness in her torso. “I’m glad you found each other.”

“Me too,” Adra said, and squeezed her hand. “It wasn’t all bad. I mean, it led me here, right?”

Lyric shifted her head, staring up at him, and her breath caught again for an entirely different reason. There was no fear or hesitation in it, only heat. Possibility. A softness that scared her as much as it warmed her chest.

“And what about you, Emerson?” she inquired. Like a coward, she turned away from the promises in Adra’s gaze and sought Emerson’s.

“Ah, not much really,” he began, brushing his hair back from his face. “Like Adra, I was in a band, and they were like my pack, but really we were just friends who lived together. There was no bond beyond the music. We toured locally, played a lot of shows, compiled our savings. I just didn’t realize what we were saving for until it was too late.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. Adra grunted in response, and her heart sank. It wasn’t good.

“The guys… they really wanted a pack. Like, the bond and everything. And for a while, they’d play pack with a groupie. Pick her up at a bar and pretend for a few weeks that they all lived happily ever after.”