Page 169 of Silver Sweet

My dad isn’t that happy either, but that’s less noticeable.

Phoenix smears his hands down his face. “I should let you all talk alone?—”

“What? No.” I go stand beside him. What the hell happened in the lobby? I send a confused look to my parents. “You never gave my other bandmates third-degree burns, so what is this?” It dawns on me fast—I did this.“Mom, I wasjokingabout the crack dens. He isn’t friends with any drug dealers or porn stars, and we did not see green fairies after drinking absinthe together. All jokes.”

Phoenix cocks his head at me. “Absinthe?”

“Bad jokes,” I add.

Audrey and Eliot are too amused. I would rather be on the other side of this and revel in the amusement. Instead, my pulse is on an ascent.

My mom turns sharply on her heels toward my dad. “Richard,” she says with frost, and that can’t be good—her telling him to deal with me.

Phoenix tightens his arms against his chest. He’s a statue of rigid muscle.

My dad has an impossible-to-read expression. “If he were like your previous bandmates, we’d treat him the same, I assure you.”

“Okay…” I frown. “He’s more talented than them. I see the difference.”

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to.”

I’m on fire. Not in a fun way.

Phoenix is so tense, I’m starting to wonder if he’s even breathing.

“You want to finish this conversation in private?” my dad asks me, which grants more unease.

I don’t care what Eliot hears, and at this point, I can’t exclude Audrey without hurting my relationship with her, even if she’s the world’s most mediocre secret-keeper.

“Out in the open is fine,” I say.

“We asked Phoenix if the two of you are more than just bandmates.”

By intensity shared between my parents and Phoenix, I’m guessing my drummer spoke the truth.

“Okay,yeah,” I tell my mom and dad. “We’re just hooking up. It’s not a crime to sleep with your bandmate.”

Audrey catches a gasp with her fingers.

Phoenix finally shifts, just to scrape a hand through his dark hair. Why is my heart taking a hit from a giant sledgehammer?

I twist to him. “We’ve donenothingwrong, dude.”

His head bobs in a nod. “Yeah.”

I can understand the tension. It’s not a comfortable confession to make to someone’s parents:I’m sleeping with my singer, who is your son.I imagine it landed like an asteroid.

Turning to my parents, I tell them, “What Phoenix and I are doing—it’s not taking away from our aspirations for the band. It’s all intertwined. And we shouldn’t be standing trial for just hooking up.”

My mom’s pinpointed, fact-finding eyes dart from me to Phoenix, then back to me.

Whereas my dad holds up a calming hand. “You’re not standing trial,” he says. “But it is unlike you.”

Yeah.Considering Phoenix is the only bandmate I’ve ever made more than just music with, I can see how that’d set off alarm bells.

Weight hasn’t left my chest. I want to tell them I have feelings for Phoenix. I want to tell them it’s deeper than some rushed, surface-level hookup that can exit my life with no consequence. Because if Phoenix exits, the loss of him will feel like claws ripping across my flesh.

I open my mouth, but I only release a staggered breath. Regardless of what I feel for him, we’re putting our energy into the tour, not into a relationship.