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"Not you," Carter and Nolan tease at the same time. They exchange mischievous, shit-eating grins that make me feel very, very bad for Maison's future. Those two teaming up against him? He's doomed.
"Aww, be nice now, boys," Travis chides. "Everyone is special in their own way."
"Oh, fuck off," Maison grumbles.
"Anyone want to play?" Keats asks, lifting his guitar and changing the subject.
Before I can give him shit about bringing a guitar if he doesn't know how to play it, Matt stands up. The air seems to shift as everyone pays close attention. It's impossible not to, even though it's so obvious and probably uncomfortable for the young man. He's just the one that's still struggling so fucking bad. Every time he takes a step forward, the rest of us are thrilled.
Ignoring all of us, he sits down and sinks in his chair, his fingers idly running along the strings for a minute. Then he starts to play.
He doesn't sing - he doesn't even talk - but he's damn good. Within a few seconds, I know what he's playing. So do the others. Bryce, surprising the hell out of us all, starts crooning along. Matt’s fingers fumble for a moment before he gives Bryce an uncharacteristically bright grin and continues. Casey makes a soft noise of content as he relaxes against me and gently sways.
When they reach the chorus, Bryce tilts his head back and fucking belts, his voice taking on a slight husky sound that has goosebumps prickling my skin. Pull my closer, tiny dancer. Count the headlights on the highway. I hook my chin over Casey’s shoulder, half-humming, half-murmuring the words to him along with Bryce. I can feel his face shift against my cheek as it stretches into a smile.
As they bring the song to an end, everyone claps and whoops. Well, except for Keats. He just stares at Bryce like he’s been smacked in the face. Bryce is too busy to notice, laughing with Max as the young man demands he sing another.
I don’t realize anything is wrong with Matt with all the commotion. Not until he suddenly lurches out of his chair and runs off, the guitar nearly falling into the fire as he leaves it behind. Travis stands immediately, ready to go after him, but Nolan puts a hand up. Bryce and Max are already heading in that direction. Without hesitation, Casey is removing himself from my lap and joining Carter and Nolan to follow behind.
The air feels uncomfortably quiet once they’ve all disappeared into the house, even the cicadas and frogs seeming to realize something is wrong.
Keats breaks the tense silence eventually, clearing his throat before saying, "Rumor is, you're all leaving."
"Yes and no," Maison says. "We're hoping to do what you do. No longer be under the head’s control or orders, but still get to help out when we're needed."
Keats frowns. "What if he doesn't approve it?"
The four of us exchange looks. Travis is the first to answer. "I'm done then. Carter and I are building a future together. The head doesn't get to have a say in that anymore, and he would if I stayed."
"I think I'd be out too," Maison says slowly, as if he's just now realizing this. "I want to be a part of that life you're building. Wherever I fit."
Travis nods. "I think that'd be good for you and Carter."
"I'd be out too," I say. "I'm too fucking old."
They all laugh, the tension easing. It surprisingly stays that way even when Ace admits, "I think I'd stay. I really love what I do. I love all of you and it'd suck not to get to be with you guys, but… I'm not sure I'm ready to walk away yet."
Maison nods. "That's fair."
We all agree.
"But hopefully he approves the deal," Ace adds.
"God, I hope so," Maison says with a laugh. “I’ll go stir-crazy without this shit.”
We all laugh again. If the others are anything like me, it's because they resonate with the sentiment. I'm not ready to be out yet, but I'm not willing to be all in either. I'm really fucking hoping we get the happy medium.
“What do you think he’s like?” Travis asks.
Keats tips his head to the side. “The head?”
“Yeah. You think he’s just some rich fuck bankrolling everything?”
“He can’t be," Maison argues. "He must have experience in the field, wouldn’t you think? I mean, there’s no way all of this shit started the way it is now. He must have started small. Probably just one operation. And he probably ran it himself.”
“Or maybe it’s him and another person. Like best friends or something. One bank rolls, the other handles logistics," Ace argues.
“Could be.” I tilt my head, considering that. "None of you have talked to him?"
