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“Close with your mom?” Arrow asks, nodding to the phone, as we walk side by side to my suite.
I nod. “Almost too close.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“She worries. A lot. She wishes I’d just come home.” “Do you want to go home?” he asks.
I shake my head, adamant. “No. I’ve worked my entire life for a chance to star in a show. And now I have. I just want to celebrate.”
“Okay,” Arrow says. “If you change your mind, let me know.” “Thanks.” Sighing, I push my phone deep into my purse. “She
just gets so intense.”
“Maybe she’s just looking out for you.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Gotta love her regardless. She’s my mom, you know?”
Arrow twists his lips. “I don’t, really. All us guys, we’re orphans. It’s how we met. Grew up together.”
I frown, feeling a deep well of sympathy for them. I’ve strug- gled my entire life with not knowing who my father was, but these strong, capable men didn’t know their mother either. I reach for his arm, stopping in the middle of the hall, not caring that the other guys behind us come to a halt as well.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, looking up into Arrow’s cautious eyes. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”
Arrow’s mouth moves like he’s about to say something, but Sawyer cuts him off. “What are you telling her, some sob story?”
I grimace. “It’s not some sob story. It’s your sob story.”
Sawyer looks nonplussed. “A sad story, that’s all it is. Besides, it’s the past. No need to repeat it.”
I try to see past whatever jaded exterior Sawyer is trying to pass off as real. I may not be a witch, but I’m a people watcher. I read emotions like other people read books. And Sawyer’s face tells a story he doesn’t want to be read aloud. That’s all right. We just met and there is no reason to dive into some heavy childhood trauma the night we should be celebrating.
“Hey,” I say, reaching for Sawyer’s hand. I slip mine in it; it’s so easy, I can’t help but wonder why I’ve never done that before. Taken a hand that I want to hold, and just place it against my own. His skin is soft, and even though he speaks in a cynical tone, I know that isn’t everything there is to him.
“Let’s have fun tonight,” I say, squeezing his hand softly. “No sad stories. In fact, no stories at all. Can’t we just eat, drink, and be merry?”
I watch North slide the key card into the hotel door, trying not to blush as Brecken sidles up to me. He looks like the cool kid in high school who never would have noticed me. He is tall, dark, and handsome, with an easy smile, and dimples to boot. I’m trying to remember that we are coworkers, but that concept seems a million miles away as he smiles at me.
“So, our little bird is a lush, is she?” Brecken asks with a grin.
I laugh. “Hardly a lush. Truthfully, I’ve never had more than a glass or two of champagne.”
Vaughn frowns as we walk into the room. “Not even on your twenty-first?”
“Not even. It was just a few months ago, anyway. I’ve been so focused on my career I don’t really party. Or, I don’t know... do anything?”
Sawyer strides into the suite and makes a beeline for the mini-fridge. “Well tonight, Dove, that changes.”
“Dove?” I scoff. “Not sure about that nickname.”
Sawyer lifts his head out of the fridge. “Okay, Wren, I’ll keep working on it.”
I laugh and begin touring their suite. “I’ve never stayed some- where so luxurious,” I admit. “What about you guys?”
“Not even close,” North agrees. “We were in a kind of foster home growing up, never lived a life of luxury.”
He takes my hand and pulls me to him. For a moment I think he is going to kiss me–which is insane, but the truth is, I’d like to feel his lips against mine; to melt into a man’s arms. His arms.
There is a look in his eyes that takes a protective hold over me. But then he surprises me completely. “We need to christen the bed, don’t you think?”
My eyes go wide, my mouth falls open. Is he serious?
His mouth breaks out into a wild grin, laughter filling his face. “You’re naughty, you know that?”
“Me?”
“I was meaning we should jump on the bed, that’s all,” he teases. “Isn’t that what they do in movies when they check into a five-star hotel?”
Then I’m laughing too. These guys aren’t some pervy strangers. They are people, just like me, who somehow landed the biggest break of their lives. And more: somehow, we are more similar than that. All of us can move in ways other people can’t. Somehow, the six of us can fly as wingless creatures, crazy as it sounds.
