Page 31 of The Encore Effect

She shook her head, never looking up. “If you don’t stretch properly before a show—”

“I know. I just came from the pool. I’m good.”

She finally looked up at him, a skeptical frown pulling at her lips. “Your hair isn’t wet.”

His exasperated sigh caught them both off guard. “I used a hair dryer. You really think I’m lying to you about swimming?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he took a step toward her, lowering his voice. “Complete honesty, remember?”

Her frown melted, replaced by a look of uncertainty as her eyes flickered between his. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re not lying about swimming.”

“Or anything else.”

She studied him, assessing the truth of his words. At last she gave the tiniest bob of her chin, but it felt like victory, like a tiny fissure in the armor she’d encased herself in. “I’ll send in wardrobe.”

He watched her walk away, felt the tether between them pull taut, stretched with every step she took, until it snapped, falling slack as the hypnotic swing of her full hips disappeared from view. Beckett pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, massaging the ache behind his sternum. He’d never get used to letting her leave, even after all those years of practice.

The rest of Midnight Storm was already deep in their pre-show ritual when Beckett joined them in the green room. Logan lounged on the sofa in one corner, watching Love Resort and sipping a ginger ale. Nico, gold under-eye masks in place, had his yoga mat spread out beside the sofa so he could have a clear view of the television from his upward dog. Zach paced the length of the green room, texting furiously. In the far corner, Jackson sat in an orange leather club chair idly strumming his guitar, his sneaker-clad foot propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

“What is she talking about? I don’t snore,” Zach said seemingly to himself.

“You do,” Logan said.

“Like a motherfucker,” Beckett added.

Zach looked wounded and turned his attention back to his phone.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Nico said without ever turning his attention away from the television.

“Fuck you. She’s my stepsister,” Zach muttered.

But Nico wasn’t paying attention to Zach anymore. He moved into triangle pose, jabbing a finger at the television screen. “I swear, if the lumberjack couples up with the scuba instructor and forgets about my girl Lacey, I’m never watching this show again.”

“The scuba instructor is into the guy with the Australian accent,” Logan said, pointing at the television.

“Then the lumberjack is going to get voted off this episode,” Nico said.

“No way. He’s too funny. They won’t get rid of him.”

Nico dropped down to sitting on the yoga mat and reached for his Evian. “Want to bet?”

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“The next time my sister sends me a care package, you can have all the magic bars.”

“Dude, Nico’s sister makes the best magic bars,” Zach said.

Logan eyed Nico suspiciously, then leaned forward and shook his hand. “You’re on.”

Beckett loped across the green room and took a seat next to his brother as their bandmates continued to bicker. Jackson’s head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed as his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, plucking out a series of haunting arpeggios. It was beautiful, sad and sweet.

When Jackson began to sing a low melody, the nonsense syllables bending and twisting, slippery and yet somehow steady as a stream, Beckett felt each note like a tiny pulse beneath his skin. He propped his right leg up on the coffee table and let the music wash over him, blocking out Nico and Logan’s running commentary on Love Resort and Zach’s complaints about his stepsister. There was something so raw about the music Jackson was making. Honest. A maze of notes that tangled around his ribs and squeezed.

When the last note died away, Jackson rested his hand on top of his guitar and slowly turned his head towards his brother. “You look like shit.”

Beckett chuckled, shaking his head at his twin’s bluntness. “I look like you.”

“Nah. I slept fine. You look like you need some of those gold patch things Nico always has on.” He gestured to the dark circles under Beckett’s eyes. “I guess being engaged is harder than it looks.”

Guilt twisted in Beckett’s gut. “Jacks—”