Page 13 of Rescue

Layla and I snort. “Yeah, you’re super classy, Lance,” I say.

“What about you guys?” Dylan asks. “You been playing long?”

“Since we were kids,” Daltrey says. “We were playing together pretty much before we could walk or talk.”

“That’s sweet,” Layla says, batting her eyelashes at him. He smiles at her in a way that tells me she’s barking up the wrong tree. I have a sudden recollection of there being some big drama in the paper about him and a girl a few years back. I wonder if she’s still around. It takes a lot for a guy to ignore Layla Kerry when she turns on the charm.

“Have you guys ever played in Europe?” Cash asks.

“Nah,” Lance says. “Just the States and a few stops in Canada.”

We were supposed to tour Europe,I think. That’s what they told us when we signed. A debut album supported by a huge tour in the US then ride that buzz all the way across the ocean. It hadn’t panned out, of course. Nothing had.

“You’ll love it,” Reed is saying. “We get great crowds over there.”

“I’m surprised the tour is so short,” Layla says. “You guys are huge overseas.”

There’s a sudden quiet in the room, and I think I see the Ransome boys glance at Lennon. It’s funny—he has the same expression on his face that I’m sure was on mine just a moment ago—slightly panicked, more than a little nauseous. But it all happens so fast I can’t get a read on the rest of them.

“That’s my fault,” Daltrey says quickly. “Daisy—that’s my girlfriend—she’s having a baby this winter, and the doctors don’t want her flying past December. So we want to be back in the states before we get to that point.”

“Wow,” Dylan says as I shoot Layla a sympathetic look. Definitely barking up the wrong tree. “That’s awesome. Congratulations, man.”

Daltrey’s resulting grin is so cute it’s like a punch to the ovaries. If there was ever a guy excited about becoming a dad, it’s him.Lucky girl,I think. Whoever she is.

“Thanks. We can’t wait.”

“And the rest of us,” Cash says, punching his brother’s arm, “can’t wait until he’s up to his elbows in diapers.” He nods toward the guys in my band. “Lead singers, you know? It’s good when they get dragged down to earth every once in a while.” He grins at me. “No offense.”

“None taken.” With that blond hair and those icy-blue eyes, I have a feeling his brother does need to be brought down to earth on occasion.

Everyone laughs—except Lennon. He’s sitting directly across from me, idly playing with his beer cap. I don’t think he’s said a word since he introduced himself before. As the guys and Layla continue to talk about the tour, I find myself watching him. He’s a lot quieter than I would have thought. Everything I’ve ever heard about Ransom painted the brothers as the loud and boisterous types. Guys who play hard and party harder. Our brief meeting with Cash and Reed back in Houston confirmed that impression. If I remembered correctly, they both were pretty drunk. Of course, so was I, making it a little hard to remember the details.

Was Lennon always the quiet one, or was he having an off day?

Suddenly he looks up from his beer bottle, his eyes going directly to mine. I freeze, and it feels like the rest of the room goes quiet, though from the corner of my eye I can see Layla still talking. Her words don’t register, none of them do. All I can think about is the look in Lennon Ransome’s eyes.

I thought he was sad before. Now I knew thatsaddoesn’t begin to cover it. He looks exactly the way I always do when I happen to catch sight of myself in the mirror. His eyes are dark and filled with an emotion I know all too well.

Lennon isn’t just sad. He’s broken. Just like me.