The Wyatt who went out of his way to get her a present she would like.
The Wyatt who’d managed to stay sober for at least three months, even with his terrible demons.
The Wyatt who brought her unimaginable pleasure, who always made sure she was taken care of—in the bedroom and out.
The Wyatt who had told three kids he didn’t know that he’d show up at their gig, just because he knew it would mean the world to them.
That was the Wyatt she knew, the Wyatt she had fallen in love with. That was the man she’d hurt.
Suddenly she was so incredibly lonely. So desperate to hear his sandpaper and gravel voice, to smell his clean water scent, to run her hands over his beautiful skin, his beautiful ink. She reached for her phone, started to pull him up on contacts.
But then another idea came to her. One that was terrifying and exhilarating and so, so foolish, all at the same time.
She didn’t have to call him. Instead, she could hop a plane down to Austin and see him.
Tomorrow was Friday night. If he was the man she thought he was, he’d be at the Spotlight, watching a band of teenagers play one of their first gigs. She could show up there and take that giant leap of faith her brother had been talking about.
It was a crazy plan, a desperate one, but it made perfect sense to her. So instead of calling Wyatt and listening to his voice, she pulled up an airline website and booked the first flight to Austin the next morning.
It might be reckless, might be a fool’s errand, but that was okay. For once in her life she was tired of playing by someone else’s rules. She was making her own rules now, and nothing was going to keep her from seeing this through.
…
“So, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Sure,” Jared said, followed by a chorus of “You bets,” from Ryder, Quinn and Drew, just as he knew would happen. The four of them had just finished working on a new song and they were all a little sweaty and a little tired. And still they were up for whatever favor he was going to ask, despite the fact that he’d been a real ass these last couple of we
eks. He had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve friends like these—including Drew, who they’d all decided was a pretty damn good guy—but he was done second-guessing the universe. Done feeling guilty about it. He was just going to enjoy, and try to be the kind of friend they deserved in return.
“What’s up, man?” Drew asked, settling down on the couch at the back of the studio and kicking his feet up onto the table.
“I promised these kids I’d go hear them play tonight. It’s one of their first gigs over at the Spotlight. I thought you might like to come with.”
“The Spotlight?” Ryder whooped. “Wow, there’s a name I haven’t heard in forever.”
“Right?” Quinn agreed with a laugh. “Remember how you almost got knifed during our second show there?”
“Pretty hard to forget,” Wyatt answered. “So you want to go?” It wasn’t that he needed them to come, it was just…he’d been feeling pretty fucking awful since Poppy left, and the last thing he really needed to do tonight was go sit, alone, in a bar. He didn’t think he’d drink or score—he hadn’t so far—but he figured there was no reason to tempt fate if he didn’t have to.
“Sure,” Jared said, exchanging a long look with the others that Wyatt tried not to notice. “What time?”
“Whenever. They’re starting in about half an hour, but they’ll play two or three sets. Or at least that’s what their manager said when I called to check.”
“You called to check?” Ryder asked. “Who are these kids?”
He shrugged. “Just fans who chased me down the street one day. They’re good kids, still in high school, I think. Big fans. They invited me to their gig and I said I’d be there. So, I’m going.”
“That’s pretty awesome,” Drew said, pushing himself off of the couch. “I say let’s go, then. Does this Spotlight club have decent food? Because I’m starving.”
“Yeah, um, maybe we should grab something on the way,” Wyatt said.
“No maybe about that,” Jared said, pulling out his keys.
“Right?” Quinn added as he finished texting Elise about their plans. “Since I’m not up for food poisoning, we’re definitely eating before we go.”
An hour later they pulled into the parking lot of the Spotlight, bitching and moaning about the fact that Jared drove like an old woman.
Jared just flipped them off as he got out of the car, telling them, “You’re all more than welcome to drive next time. Of course, that would mean one of you would have to get a vehicle bigger than a roller skate, and somehow I don’t see that happening any time soon, so…”