“Maybe Saturday for lunch then?”

“Sure.” Dizzy gave her a big smile before asking to use the restroom. He went to the back and my mom returned to the kitchen. I snuck a peak at Lace. She had her legs pulled up under her chin and her arms wrapped around them. I was the man of the house and my mom told me my job was to take care of the girls. It made me sad to see Lace looking so scared. I wanted to make her smile.

I scooted closer to her. She put her cheek on her knee and watched me. I stuck my tongue out at her and rolled my eyes. Her lips twitched. I put my hand under my arm pit and made the farty sound a couple of times.

She giggled.

Yes. I slid right beside her, happy when she didn’t move away. “I like your eyes,” I said in a soft voice like my mom had used. “They’re pretty.”

She gave me a smile so big I noticed that her top two front teeth were missing. “Are you Printh Charming?” she asked me with a lisp.

“Uh-uh.” As if.

Dizzy came back in the room and grinned at me as he flopped back on the sofa. He must have heard that last bit.

“I am going to marry you someday,” Lace said with a nod like it was a done deal. “When I am growed up and pretty like Cinderella.”

I started to laugh but choked it back when I saw how serious she looked. It seemed so important to her that I found myself agreeing. Even though I knew Dizzy would never let me hear the end of it.

And here we were all these years later and Lace Lowell still had the ability to tie me up in knots. I still wanted to protect and please her. But because of War I was powerless to do either.

Some fucked up fairy tale I was living.

She stared out the one way windows. There was nothing to see. It was dark and we were parked between two buildings with only an occasional flicker of white from blowing snow to break up the monotony of the view.

“What’s Avery Jones like?” she asked turning abruptly to face me.

I tensed, thought a moment, and chose my words carefully. “Helluva guitarist.”

She swallowed. “And?”

“And nothing.” I shrugged. “She’s back with Marcus Anthony now if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Sorry. I saw some pictures.” There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before. “It seemed like she might be important to you.”

I seriously contemplated telling her right then and there that she was the only woman that had ever been important to me when I heard the door slide open behind us.

“Guys it’s four fucking a.m.” Voice gruff with disapproval, War’s appearance brought our intimate predawn reunion to an end. Looking wan and strung out, the lead singer of Tempest shuffled into view wearing a pair of red boxers and scratched his bare chest. “Come on back to bed, babe.” He held out his hand to her while shooting me an irritated glance.

She patted my knee and I took the cue to scoot out of the booth ahead of her so she could exit.

War threw a proprietary arm around her shoulders as soon as her bare feet hit the floor. “Night, Loser.”

“Night, Asshole.”

War gave me the finger before he closed the door.

I stared at it for a long time. Nothing had fucking changed. Twenty thousand people screaming my name during my guitar solo at the Garden, plus two twins, but none of that mattered to me. Not when my best friend had the woman I’d always wanted.

2

My mind remembered how badly Bryan Jackson had hurt me, but my traitorous body wanted me to forget. It wanted me to go back, wrap my legs around that washboard waist of his, curl my fingers into his tatted biceps, fuse my mouth to his and beg him to make me moan instead of those twins. Fortunately for me, my mind overruled and the nail prints in my palms were the only casualty I sustained after this particular run in with Bryan.

I followed War to the bedroom, past the triple stack of sleeping bunks where my brother and the other band members slept. He was tall, about a half inch taller than Bryan, and his slender frame dwarfed the full sized bed as he crawled into it and held the covers out for me. Knee to the mattress, I slid underneath and shimmied close. An errant caramel colored strand tickled my nose as I laid my cheek against his smooth chest, right over his solid black heart tattoo. I tried to make myself relax while he stroked my hair.