One Weekend in Vegas: A Best Friend's Older Brother, Rock Star Romance

Chapter 12

Before either woman can argue, I thread my fingers through Brittany’s and leave my sister behind.

“Five minutes.”

The words are shouted from the stage manager somewhere nearby, a warning to all and a reminder that I only have a limited time to eat crow and beg forgiveness.

Walking into our dressing room, I point at Reid, Wyatt, and Hudson. “You, you, and you. Out.”

Wyatt’s eyes meet mine, and he nods once, a small smile curving the right corner of his lips.

“What the fuck, Ryder?” Reid asks, shrugging into the muscle tank he’ll wear for the concert.

“I need to talk to Brittany,” I tell them. “Without you three piping up from the peanut gallery.”

Wyatt wouldn’t be an issue, but I can’t guarantee the behavior of the other two. But…

“On second thought,” I say, tugging Brittany’s arm so she’s standing beside me, “maybe I should speak to the three of you now, so Brittany can hear it.”

“This ought to be good,” Hudson mutters, twirling a guitar pick between his fingers.

Wyatt sidesteps closer and slaps him in the back of the head. Hudson drops the pick and cups his skull while glaring at the bassist.

“Thanks, Wy.” Clearing my throat, I glance down at the way my fingers wrap with Brittany’s, relishing their warm smoothness. This connection is something I never knew I’d miss. Not until I fucked things up between us and experienced what it was like to not have them.

“She is who I choose,” I say, looking up and meeting the gazes of each of my bandmates. “And I’m hoping she chooses me back. I’m hoping that I can convince her to forgive me for being an idiot. For disregarding and disrespecting her and our child. But she is who I want.”

“But—”

“I didn’t come to this realization lightly,” I say, talking over Reid. “Or quickly. Nine years, guys. For nine years, I’ve felt something for her. I’ve watched her light up when I push her buttons, and I’ve worked to spark a fire in her eyes. I’ve loved all the small things I’ve learned until each of those pieces clicked into place, showing me exactly who this woman next to me really is. The one I am proud to know contributed half the DNA of our child. Thank fuck for that, because maybe our kid will be less likely to become a screw-up like me.”

Turning to face her, I study her expression, waiting until her gaze locks with mine. A variety of emotions swims in those greenish brown swirls of color. What does she think about all this?

Hope blends with sadness. And something that looks a little like the way she looked at me last night when we made love.

Love.

Fuck. That hits me in the gut in a way nothing else has.

“I’m sorry, Brittany. So fucking sorry for what happened earlier. I was an idiot. There’s no good excuse for why I said what I did to these guys. You are so much more than some chick I got pregnant.”

She winces, but I squeeze her hand and keep talking.

“You are my first thought in the morning and my last before I go to sleep. I can absolutely understand if you want to walk away. If all that exists between us now is a co-parenting relationship. But I want more. I want the future I see when I let myself think about it. I want what I’ve witnessed between my parents. I want it all.”

“I—”

A knock on the door interrupts her, and she snaps her mouth shut.

“Showtime.”

God dammit. My time is up.

Heart aching, I take a single step closer. “I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t feel comfortable with. But please know how sorry I am. I can’t stand the thought of you thinking what I said earlier is true. I want to be with you. I want our family,” I rush out.

Another knock on the door garners my attention. When I glance at it, I realize that the guys all disappeared at some point.

Thank fucking Christ. Or maybe more like thank Wyatt.

“Ryder.”

“Will you be here when I get done?” I ask, clasping her free hand too. “Not here in this room, but here? Will you wait for me?”

Nerves twist my stomach into a knot. With a hand cupping her face, I run my thumb along her jawline and wait for her response, showtime be damned.

She lifts her hand, and her fingers circle my wrist. But she doesn’t pull me away. Her fingertips rest against my pulse point. The pressure is as light as a butterfly’s wings tickling my skin, but the touch resonates with my soul.

A little hum works its way through her throat, and her tongue slicks a trail of moisture across her lips. It tempts me to lean down, to capture the last vibration of that small sound. But I hold back. Waiting.

She’s worth it.

“Will you?” My voice is only a whisper.

“Yes.”

Elation fizzes through my blood, lighting me up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Closing the distance, I press my lips against her forehead. This is the only thing I’ll allow myself to have right now. Because if I kiss her, I won’t want to stop.

And I have to.

The door pops open, and one of the stage managers pokes his head in, his eyes widening as he takes us in.

“Yo, Ryder, everyone else is ready. Let’s go.”

“I’ll see you soon,” I murmur. With a kiss to her cheek, I breathe her in.

“Okay. I’ll be watching.”

Unable to resist, I brush my mouth against hers in a swift kiss that’s over far sooner than I want it to be.

??????

The cheers of the crowd still surge as I follow the guys offstage after our encore.

“That was fucking awesome!” Reid squeezes my shoulders as I pass him and uses them to launch himself up so he’s nearly on top of me, halting my search for Brittany.

She watched from just offstage the whole time. Every time I looked, she was there, with pride and something more—something I’m afraid to name—shining from her eyes.

“Where’s Britt?” I ask, spinning and shaking Reid loose.

Reid, unfazed, takes off to bug Wyatt. Poor bastard.

“I’m here.” Her voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the noise around us, but I pick up on it immediately.

Rotating, I yank her into me and lift her off her feet. She squeals and wraps her arms around my neck. The move presses her tighter against me, making my dick harden in a surge of lust and adrenaline still firing through my blood.

Now is not the time. Or the place with my parents and Krista standing so close.

Hudson puts Krista in a headlock, and she elbows him in the side.

“Quit it. You’re going to mess up my hair,” she grumbles.

Hudson grabs his side and staggers back. “Ow.”

Mom rolls her eyes as she wraps her arms around both Brittany and me. “Krista, don’t make me wish we left you in Colorado,” she says, her tone reminiscent of many a lecture we both received as kids.

“I’m an adult,” my sister counters.

“Prove it,” Mom says. “Now let me tell your brother how proud I am of him so we can get back to the room and get to bed. It’s past my bedtime.”

“Aw, Mrs. P, how often are you in Vegas? We should go out and party.” Reid’s expression reminds me of the look the cartoon cat gets when he begs, eyes wide and smile hopeful.

But it won’t work on Mom.

“I’ve had my share of fun. When we were your age, we could out party any of you.” She points to Dad and then to herself.

I bite back a laugh. I have a hard time picturing my sitcom-watching, bedtime-at-nine parents partying in Vegas.

“Proud of you, son,” Dad says, clapping me on the back.

“So proud,” Mom echoes.

With another quick hug, they head toward the exit.

“I want to finish our talk from earlier,” Brittany murmurs only loud enough for me to hear.

Anticipation, hope, and doubt are in a battle royale inside me, making my stomach churn violently.

“You have an answer to my question?” I ask.

She nods. Her facial expression gives nothing away, but the way she’s still snuggled up against my side gives me hope.

“Are we going out?” Reid asks.

I keep my focus fixed on Brittany. “Are we?” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

“You guys go ahead. We have other plans. Make sure Krista doesn’t go too far off the rails.”

I don’t wait for them to respond before I lead Brittany away from the madness backstage, heading for a quieter place to get the answer I hope for.

The only one I’ve given myself permission to wish for.