Page 97 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

That didn’t answer her question, but Lyric fought back the rising worry and let Henry do his thing. He and Wilson stepped away to talk, and soon Henry had the phone to his ear, the other hand motioning wildly as he spoke.

“You okay?” a deep voice asked. Lyric glanced up to Adra by her side. It was his arm that had slid over her shoulder, and she leaned into his side more.

“Yeah, just… startled.”

“It’ll be okay. Once a crew gets out here to replace the tire, we’ll be on our way in no time,” Nohen said and shrugged.

Lyric slid her phone from her back pocket and tapped the side button to reveal the time. “If the nearest service station is hours away, will we make it to the venue?” Nine hours until show time.

“Yeah, no problem. Two hours for the crew to get here, maybe an hour—tops—to fix the tire, and three to the venue,” Henry interjected as he returned.

Lyric rolled her phone over in her hands. “Are you sure that’s enough travel time? What if something else is wrong?”

Henry waved her off and glanced to his right. The tire in question was shredded.

“It’s fine. Just a blown tire. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Our other option would be to call ahead for rental vehicles and have them driven out this way, but it’s too much trouble—and money—when the repair guys can be out in a few hours and then we’ll be on our way.”

Lyric wanted to argue, wanted to get to the venue and reassure herself that they wouldn’t miss the show, but Henry was already glaring at his phone and answering another call.

A gentle touch on her upper arm pulled her attention to the right. Nohen stared down at her, sympathy in his gaze. “I think Henry’s right, it’s a simple tire fix, but if you’d feel better getting rentals, we can twist his arm.”

“Yeah, just say the word,” Emerson echoed with a smirk.

Lyric’s lips curled at their teasing threats, but ultimately shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I trust Henry’s judgment.”

Now the question was… what did they do while they waited?

The answer to that question was found in a plastic controller, which controlled her beautifully decorated racing cart as she crossed the finish line.

“Hah!” she shouted with a grin and held up both hands. “First place. Suck it!”

Nohen crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. A glare narrowed his features, but humor brightened them up the longer he stared at her. “Fine, fine. You won that one fair and square. I guess.” He rolled his eyes, and she heard the sarcasm in his words, but a fond smile was curling his coral colored lips. “If fair and square is what you call Emerson coaching you the whole time.”

“Hey, we didn’t say there couldn’t be teams,” Emerson pointed out and leaned away from her, his arms falling away from her sides.

So what if he’d leaned over her shoulder to tell her how to win the race? And so what if she’d totally seen Nohen drive off the track a few times, which she’d never ever seen him do before? And did it really matter if Emerson had wrapped his hands around hers to control the cart halfway through?

It was better than ramming the retaining wall over and over again.

Mmm, speaking of ramming…

Lyric unintentionally shifted in her seat, brushing back against Emerson. She froze after she did it, thinking she could pretend it hadn’t happened. But Emerson was too smart for that, or maybe they’d just been so utterly aware of each other’s presence since filing back onto the bus that he couldn’t help but notice.

“I wanted to play Lyric, not Emerson,” Nohen complained. His gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them, and Lyric cleared her throat before scooting to the edge of the couch and standing.

“I still played… technically. My hands were on the controller.”

Nohen rolled his eyes again, his lips twitching. “Throw me one?” he asked as Lyric pulled the fridge open.

The cold plastic was stark against her skin, warmed from the pressure of Em’s wrapping them around the controller.

Lyric grabbed a bottle for herself and tossed him the other. Nohen snatched it out of the air effortlessly, his plain tee rising up to bare a stretch of smooth, honey colored flesh above his waistband.

Her thoughts tripped over themselves, and she paused with her hand wrapped around another bottle. For a split second, her gaze jumped from one to the other, and she tried to remember why the hell she needed two bottles, but then Emerson cleared his throat.

The plastic crackled as she tossed him one too, then closed the fridge and returned to her seat, cheeks heating.

Two alphas aren’t enough? You want your lead guitarist too?