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“Is that …” I squint at the screen, desperately trying to make out the frame on the wall behind my girl’s head. “Is that my fucking band Tee?”
Aria doesn’t answer, she just snickers as a smile forms on my lips and I jump up from the bean bag to haul my ass down the ladder in search of Ian.
“I should’ve fucking known Fin would do that. Damn.” I shake my head, my feet carrying me across the brilliantly green lawn to the lit-up house, my brother’s phone still firmly planted in my hand.
“What’s that?” Aria brings her face to the screen, blocking out the shit in the background with a grin.
“I’m coming to you, babe,” I say as I take the steps up the porch. “We still need to talk about you telling me no.” Her eyes widen in the screen at my words when I step into the house. “Ian!”
“Nope.” I hear his grumble from the sitting room, his attempt at finality futile and hilarious.
“Don’t I pay your paycheck, dickweed?” I brush his feet off of the chaise and square my shoulders when his tired eyes meet mine.
“No, you don’t.” I roll my eyes and tap his knee with the back of my hand.
“C’mon, Ian. It’s with you or without you.” I turn my ass around and head back to the front door, tossing my twin’s phone at his head on the way. “Sleep in the car.”
“Fuck you,” he grunts, his heavy footsteps catching up with me faster than I thought he would, mine hitting the sidewalk to the driveway. “Safehouse, right?”
I nod, the jingle of his keys breaking the otherwise silence of the nighttime air.
Or morning time. Pretty sure it’s late as balls.
“You fucking knew?” I take up the passenger side of Ian’s SUV when he automatically goes to the driver’s side.
The only answer I get is a throaty grunt as he shuts himself in and turns the key to bring the engine to life.
“Asshole,” I mutter, more for my satisfaction than for him to hear.
“Again, fuck you.”
Another eye roll leads me to staring out the window at the passing landscape. Ian drives smoothly, but fast in the direction of the highway, then to our hidden property at the back of the industrial park.
It takes several hours to get there, my lids getting heavier with each passing mile of concrete and asphalt.
There’s no tail this time—Thank fucking God—but Ian still circles around different blocks, going in opposite directions, then back again.
Once he’s done fucking around, we pull up to the place I haven’t set foot in since I wrote the breakup album for the same fucking woman that’s harbored inside.
The soles of my boots hit the pavement before Ian can put the SUV in park, carrying me to the front of the house and up the few stairs to push open the heavy door and march inside.
“Aria!” I shout into the house, skidding around the bar and into the room I know she was in at one point tonight.
Cursing when I find it empty, I run to the kitchen and nearly take Fin out in the process.
“Yo, watch it!” He snaps, cradling the carton of eggs over his shoulder, narrowly removing them from meeting my chest. “Princess is in the fucking back room.”
I grab a fistful of his tank and bring his nose to meet mine. “The fuck you call her?”
“A fucking princess.” Fin shakes his head and spins away from me, muttering shit under his breath.
I don’t care.
I take off at a dead sprint to find my girl.
“Babe!”
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