Page 29 of Under the Same Sky

“And work. You need to get back to that, too.”

“Ugh, that means I’ll have to talk to Thorin and make sure he’s flexible. I have no idea what him and the band are up to, and I don’t want to force him to take care of Eli. If nothing else, we have to find a schedule that best suits him, he’s my number one priority now.”

Mya purses her lips, her forehead scrunched in what I know to be her ‘thinking’ face. It usually goes one of two ways—catastrophic or brilliant.

“For now, let me deal with the band. I’ll give Alex and Penelope a call in the morning,”—okay, we’re erring on the side of catastrophic, I can feel it—“And you work on patching things up with Thorin.” I open my mouth to argue but she clamps her hand over my mouth. “I know you expect him to apologize first, but put your big girl panties on and fix it. You cannot afford to have any kind of distraction, you have too much work to do.”

If Mya weren’t my best friend, she’s the kind of girl I’d constantly want to throttle because she has no filter, she’s always right and she can read people like no one else I’ve ever met. She’s also a Stage One Meddler. I exhale harsh enough that I hope her finger is covered in snot. “Good girl.” Mya drops her hand. “Now, we need to get some shut-eye because starting tomorrow, you’re back to work, and before you even ask, you will be doing a video introducing Eli to your fans.”

I pout, and she laughs at how pitiful I look while standing from the sofa. “Are you always such a drill sergeant, or do you just like torturing me?”

“You knew what you got when we became friends, and when I started working for you, babe.”

“I know.” I stand, and wrap my arms around her. “And I’ve mentioned how happy I am that you’re here, right?”

“Only about a million times,” she laughs, hugging me just as hard.

“I love you, Mya.”

She lets me go, kisses my cheek, and slaps my ass. “I love you more, now go to bed.”

She traipses off, a smug grin on her face, and I can’t help but feel lighter now that she’s here. She’s right about Thorin, but I’ll deal with that.

Eventually.

When apologizing to him won’t feel like pulling teeth without Lidocaine.

Chapter Eleven

Thorin

The waitress drops off another round of beers, and Fletch winks as she sashays to another section. We’re sitting at a high-top table, nestled in the corner of Jameson’s, the best pub and grill in town. One of the things I love about this place is that even if you’re famous, no one bothers you. You see them in the supermarket, and they say hello, but then go about their business. Sure, we’ve gotten a few glances here and there, but no one has come up to ask for an autograph, and I have to admit I like it. After almost a week of being cooped up in the rental, the guys wanted to get out, and I don’t blame them. Alex had a Ford F250 delivered yesterday, so that the guys could get around town, and I bought myself a Ford F250 Super Duty like Reese’s, but instead of cherry red, I went for ‘Blue Jeans’ blue. It’s been four days since Reese’s friend, Mya, arrived, and when the tension got to be too much, I escaped to the band’s rental house down the road. Unless I’m watching Eli, I’m with the guys. Granted, I’ve been acting like a dick towards Reese, but I’m still smarting over what she did at the bonfire. I don’t want to believe she did it just to get under my skin, but damn if it didn’t scratch at old wounds. It brought our past back, and while I knew we’d have to address it eventually, it’s just too soon after losing Ryan and Mel. As far as our routine with Eli goes, we’re solid, but that’s about it. We tolerate each other, nothing more. I hate it, but no way am I apologizing first.

“So,” Benji takes a sip of his Corona, “when do we start on our next album?”

During my many visits to the house, we’ve been messing around with lyrics, and sounds, unhurried because the record label has yet to ask about our next album. But the guys are itching to get back into it. So am I.

“Not sure,” I reply honestly. “I can’t exactly leave.” Not that I’m in a hurry to. Having Eli has changed things, and so has Reese. I missed so much of my brother’s life, I don’t want to miss any more. I’ve been all over the world, sang in some incredible cities, but nothing could have prepared me for how good it would feel to really be home. Where I grew up. Where I learned to play music. Fletch leans forward. “Not sure I want to leave yet. I like it here.”

“More than New York and L.A?” Carson asks.

Fletch purses his lips. “It’s different here, slower. I wouldn’t mind writing a few tracks while we’re here, and then maybe laying them down in L.A.”

“Or,” I scratch the scruff on my chin. “We can record it here.”

Benji frowns. “How? There’s no recording studio here.”

“There could be.” I look at the guys. “There’s an old dilapidated barn on the ranch. What if we had it converted into a recording studio? We can write some new stuff, record it here.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Carson says, and Benji and Fletch nod their agreement.

“I want to change our sound,” I add, fidgeting with the label on my beer bottle. We do rock, and we have a few tracks that have a mix of country, but lately there’s been a need for something new. “Something that speaks to being home, putting down roots.” For a split second the thought of settling down with Reese enters my head, but I’m quick to shut it down. Not happening. I get that she’s now a permanent fixture in my life, and I have no choice but to accept it, but it won’t ever be more than that.

“We do have a lot of memories here,” Fletch says, grinning. “I mean, we’ve done three albums of what feels like the same stuff, you know? I’m down for trying something else.”

“Count me in.” Benji leans back. “Friday Night Lights, man.”

I snort. “God, we caused so much shit at those field parties. We could probably write an entire album about that alone.”