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Molly brushed her hair over her shoulder and fit the scarf lower on her forehead until it touched her eyebrows. “I think this is right?” She turned to look at Jules and pursed her lips. “Close?”
Jules leaned into her mic. “I don’t think you’re packing enough to be Bret, but you’ll do.”
A girl from the back let out a scream.
Molly laughed. “So, you might know what song we’re doing?” Her voice went husky and low. “‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’, ladies and gentlemen.”
The acoustic guitars blended until the stage became a wall of sound. The house lights went up slowly and Ryan took the moment to search the crowd. He tried not to get his hopes up.
But there in the back, along the wall, was a familiar shadow. Her hair was down and she was wearing a ball cap, but he knew it was Denver. Knew it because his chest tightened and skin tingled.
The air charged as her brown eyes met his across the room. The place was small enough for him to actually see the play of lights and darks across her face.
Her lips parted and she lowered her head before sneaking one more look at him. His cock hardened and he was glad to have the doubleneck acoustic in his lap to hide the evidence.
As Molly finished the first verse and the band sang the chorus, Ryan pulled the microphone down to his mouth.
He’d never be the singer Molly was, but he could hold his own. He extended the “yeah, it does,” as Bret did in the infamous Unplugged version. He’d played the song a million times.
His fingers knew the notes and chords as surely as he knew his own music. This time, he sung the lyrics to her.
They had plenty of scars between them. Long nights and stories in the dark made for a foundation he’d never shared with another woman. He hoped this song would tell her everything he didn’t know how to fully express yet.
When Ryan looked up again, she was gone.
His gut tightened and his fingers shook a little, but then he noticed her settling into a seat and he found a full breath for the first time in days.
Fuck, yeah.
He grinned over at Molly as she finished the song and the audience all rose to their feet. They were killing it tonight.
The band took the crowd’s excitement—and their own—into the next five songs.
They played a two-hour set and they were all dripping by the time they got to their hit single, “Goodbye”.
Ryan pulled out his violin and crossed to West so they could play back to back. Molly stalked up and down the stage, her vocals soaring for the rafters. Jules and Elle flanked Mal’s kit, and Michael played front and center as they came together for one hell of a glorious finale.
Nothing could be sweeter than this.
There was a magic to the night, the atmosphere, the crowd, and the band. A moment that every band longed for, and chased like the devil was on their heels.
For one brief moment, they let it all in and found stage nirvana. They didn’t question it and sure as shit didn’t analyze it.
Warning Sign took the night and owned it. And went to the front of the stage as a unit when the house lights went up. He linked hands with Jules on his right and West on his left as they bowed, then waved.
They ran offstage and into the cooler, quieter darkness backstage.
West and Michael looped an arm around each other’s necks and dragged him in for a trio hug. Ryan nailed West in the ribs with a fist when he tried to give him a damn noogie like when they were in college.
It was nice to hear laughter and banter instead of Molly’s critique on a show. There was nothing that could take away from their performance.
“It would be better with a sixth. The pot is sweeter.”
Ryan’s internal sensor went on alert. His head swiveled at the older man’s voice. Not one of their normal roadies, since it was a stripped-down show. This guy worked for the venue itself.
“Go on, I’ll catch up,” Ryan said to West.
West frowned. “You sure?”
