Page 2 of Holding On

“It’s been forever, long overdue,” I agree with Wells as the bartender points to the whiskey he just poured for Wells, and I nod in response.

“How’s London?”

“It’s good, but it’s also nice to be home. I might stay a little longer, maybe tag along to a few more shows,” Wells says as he takes a sip of his whiskey. “Sometimes, I feel like Tinsley doesn’t always give me the full story about her life, so it will be nice to spend some time with her.”

“I have to be in London next month for some follow-up meetings with a small acquisition, but I’ll make sure our assistants get some face time on our calendars if you’re in town.”

“So long as they involve at least a few evenings at a pub, I’m in. I spend too much fucking time in a conference room. Don’t get me wrong, we are lucky assholes, but why are there so many meetings?” Wells would rather be on the go than stuck behind a desk, so I’m sure his idea of too many meetings is still significantly less than what I consider a typical schedule for me.

“Who’s opening for Tinsley tonight?” I ask, assuming it’s another one of our artists.

Wells scrunches his eyebrows and tilts his head. “Uh … is it terrible I don’t even know?”

I scowl at him.

“No, no, it’s not like that—at least this time. The duo that was scheduled for tonight got food poisoning yesterday, so I don’t know who they found to fill in.”

“I think I saw her on the way in, and I don’t know who she is or if she can sing, but she is gorgeous.” Even that word seems to fall short in describing her beauty.

Wells laughs. “It always helps when the artists are both talented and beautiful, not going to lie. Gorgeous, though? Huh. I wonder if they were able to get that new girl we signed last week. What was her name … Fiona something? I don’t know; she’s an indie artist that’s found some mild success on her own, but she’s beautiful and can both sing and write.” Our company Lux specializes in working with singer-songwriters who want to be heavily involved in both the performing and writing sides of the business. Some of our artists only perform, and we have a handful of songwriters, but the ideal client for both our business model and their bank account, are the ones that can do both.

Talented and gorgeous? That’s a dangerous combination, but I’ve also never had a reaction like this to someone in my life. “Whoever it is, I’d love to meet her after the show.”

Wells punches my arm. “Holy shit, the Ice Man melts! And I get to see it?” Wells laughs and it’s true. I do have an unfortunate nickname of being an ice man, but it’s not coldness, it’s control. I keep all my emotions in check and only allow my guard down in a very select few situations, like around my family or my close friends. The lights dim as the band walks out and begins playing intro music.

And there she is.

The redheaded goddess I saw earlier. Her hair catches the light and pops of copper and blonde weave throughout her vibrant wavy red locks. She’s wearing cognac cowboy boots, those sinful shorts, and an emerald green top that showcases her amazing cleavage. She looks incredible, but I also hate that every other asshole in here is seeing how good she looks. She has curves for days and they’re in all the right places.

“Huh, things must have changed.” Wells shrugs as he takes another sip.

I briefly glance at Wells before my eyes zero back in on the siren. “So … that’s not Fiona?”

“What? No, man. What are you talking about? That’s Tinsley.” Wells elbows me but he could have knocked me over with a feather.

Tinsley.

That’s Tinsley?

The last time I saw Wells’s sister in person, she was barely a teenager, and I think she even had braces. Tinsley was a cute kid, but the woman on stage right now is just that—all woman.

“You okay, man? You look like you just saw a ghost or something.” Wells raises an eyebrow at me as Tinsley adjusts her guitar and steps up to the microphone.

“Hey there, Nashville! How y’all doing? My name is Tinsley Sinclair and I’m so happy you’re here.” She—Tinsley—flashes a vibrant smile as she greets the crowd. Her eyes scan the packed audience before she looks up to the VIP section of the balcony. Her brother cheers loudly, and Tinsley laughs as she watches him pump his hands over his head like an idiot. Her smile pauses, for just a moment, as her ice-blue eyes land on me. Tinsley’s gaze commands every ounce of my attention by every fiber of my being. She bites her lip, and I hold back a groan as the crowd cheers loudly and breaks the moment. Standing on the stage is not the nerdy thirteen-year-old I last saw a decade ago, but a captivating twenty-three-year-old woman. I knew she had grown up—obviously—but I guess I hadn’t paid enough attention.

Why the fuck wasn’t I paying attention to every single detail about her?

“Callahan.” Wells draws my attention away from the goddess on the stage. “What’s going on? You good?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m good; everything’s fine.” I take a sip of my whiskey but don’t even feel bad about lying to one of my best friends.

Everything is not fine, not fine at all.

If love at first sight is a thing, I think I just fell for my best friend’s little sister.

CHAPTER TWO

5.5 YEARS AFTER PRIOR CHAPTER