Page 60 of It Should Have Been You

I cock a brow. “And who said it didn’t mean something to me?” It didn’t, but I haven’t watched anything more fascinating than her mouth move in a very long time. I want to keep her talking.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “What’s her name?”

“What?”

“Her name, Logan? What is it?”

Fuck.

She’s got me by the balls on that one and the shit-eating grin on her face tells me she knows it.

Platinum’s return is a welcome distraction this time. She slides two cold beers toward me, still smiling. “What brings you in tonight?”

I hand one to Bethany Rose before taking a swig of mine and holding it up. “Beer and music.”

She leans over the bar, her cleavage on full display. “Well, if you want some company, you know where to find me,” she purrs before walking away.

Bethany Rose downs a mouthful of beer before slamming it on the bar, her eyes crawling after the bartender on the other side. “I take back every word. She doesn’t know who I am. What if this really was a date?”

“It’s not a date.”

She ignores me. “She doesn’t know who I am to you, and she still throws herself at you. Gotta give it to her for taking her shot, though… Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to eat me.”

She has no idea.

There’s heat in her eyes when the lights go down. A loud strum of a guitar and the band begins. No introduction. That’s Jaxson. He didn’t get into music to talk, and he rarely does.

Going by the screaming crowd, it works.

Eyes wide, Bethany Rose squeals and spins around in her chair.

I sit back and watch because this part never gets old, listening to Jaxson sing and seeing how everyone reacts to him. I bought him his first guitar for his tenth birthday. I barely had two cents to my name, so it was an old acoustic I found in a second-hand store, but he loved it. He taught himself until he finally convinced Skip to allow him to go to lessons.

Pure fucking pride. It’s all I feel.

This is their last gig like this with such an intimate crowd. He’s about to take on the world.

I haven’t heard this song before, but it’s good.

Bethany Rose is practically standing on the stool when the song comes to a close, her beer long forgotten as she sways back and forth.

Then the crowd erupts when the band break into a cover ofMr. BrightsidebyThe Killers. With the familiar guitar opening, the crowd goes feral and she’s one of them.

“I can’t stay sitting for this one.” She’s bouncing when she looks over at me. “Come on. Don’t be a bore.”

“I’m not dancing, or whatever the fuck they’re doing.” It looks like a migraine waiting to happen.

“My feet belong on that floor. See ya later, Grandpa.”

Not caring that she’s on her own, she quickly melts into the crowd and goes wild.

Throwing her head back, her dark blonde waves fall down her back as her dress swishes against her thighs, her feet stomping in her black boots.

I drain the last of my beer to quench my parched throat and order another. I’ll need more if I'm to resist the urge to touch her for another hour.

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