Until Then (The Blue Collar Boys #1)

26. Luke

26

Luke

W e make it halfway into our six-hour trip before stopping for gas and provisions. Everyone scrambles out of their vehicles, stretching and loosening up, before heading inside the corner store.

“You want anything?” Greer asks over her shoulder.

“Whatever you pick will be fine.” I probably should have been worried by the look she gave me. I’m not ashamed to admit I watch her ass until she’s out of sight.

“You know,” Hunter says, his voice cutting through the hum of both gas lanes, “it’s nice seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.”

“Have I not always been happy?” I finish before going to stand next to him.

“Sure, you’ve been happy, but she makes you different.”

“Greer is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I tell him, my voice steady with conviction. “You think you’ll ever find a woman to tie you down for life?”

Hunter smiles, his gaze shifting toward my sister as she enters the store and disappears from sight. “Already have.”

“So,” I say, “when are you going to tell her?”

“When she’s ready to hear it.”

“Don’t wait too long, Hunter. Life is too short. You and Sutton both deserve happiness and living in this perpetual state of . . . hell, I don’t even know what to label it, isn’t fair to either of you. Remember your advice you gave me about Greer?” He nods his head. “If you love her, don’t let this shit fester.” With that, I leave him to sort through his own thoughts and head inside after my girl.

Gaudy fluorescent lights greet us as we step inside, all of us laughing and goofing off while picking out drinks and snacks. I spot Greer in the middle of the girls, their heads huddled together as they whisper excitedly, her smile wide and infectious.

“You think you two will finally seal the deal?” Vinnie asks.

“Watch it, Vinnie,” I say, shoving him away from me. His boisterous laugh draws everyone’s attention. Greer’s eyes meet mine with a wicked half smirk. I nod in warning. Little minx just bites that damn lip of hers, laughs, and disappears into the restroom.

After much delay and with our goods acquired, we finally hit the road again. Greer’s scanning through my music app looking for the perfect song. That’s one thing I’ve learned about Greer this summer—she loves to ride in the passenger seat and play DJ. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to command our playlist when we go for a drive, she weasels her way into control. So far, our playlist has gone from Broadway musicals to rock and even some hardstyle EDM.

“Your musical choices are always interesting,” I say playfully as I lace my fingers with hers.

“Says someone who listens to one genre of music only.”

“Hey now, nothing wrong with ’90s country.”

She laughs. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with ’90s country. You know I love it, and I’m sure they love it way down yonder on the Chattahoochee. I’m merely suggesting there’s a whole world of music out there. Why limit yourself?” She traces her fingers up and down the inside of my arm, each pass inching her fingers further under the sleeve of my shirt.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask, trying like hell to focus.

With a devilish grin, she says, “Touching you.”

I slide my hand from hers and trace the smooth expanse of her thigh. I love how warm her skin is. Her hand stills as mine finds its way under the hem of her shorts, toying with the edge. She takes a steadying breath and relaxes her thighs open. My fingers trace the delicate skin of her inner thigh, and her eyes close. I want so badly to slip my hands under her panties. With great difficulty, I pull my hand back to the steering wheel.

Greer breathes heavily before leaning over and kissing my shoulder. Her free hand runs up the side of my neck and caresses my earlobe.

“Be good.”

“I am, but I . . .” she hesitates.

“But you what?” I ask, dying for her to finish her thought.

“I want you.”

A semi-truck slows down and suddenly changes lanes in front of us. Greer tenses, squeezing her thighs together. I reach over, then smooth my hand over hers. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation and apprehension. My phone pings with a text. I glance at Greer and nod, signaling for her to check the message. She smiles, as if this smalls gesture proves how much I trust her.

“Oh no,” she says, after reading it and burying her head on her arm.

“What’s it say?” I laugh.

“Navy is not a happy camper right now. She’s threatening to jump out of the truck.”

“I kind of figured driving with those two would not be fun,” I say, replacing both hands on the wheel. I maneuver our truck out from behind the semi, pulling up behind Hunter’s once again.

“Those two have a lot of history, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Not that I could describe any of it to you. Ever since Dad died, Sutton keeps her private life very private, and Hunter’s protective of her.”

“But they like each other?” Her hand trails up and down my shoulder.

“Oh, they’re totally in love with each other, but I think they’re too blind to see it.”

“You’d be okay with them being together?” Greer replaces my phone and changes the song.

“Hunter is a great guy, even if he seems like someone different to the general population. Granted, he’s my best friend, so I might be biased. They just need to get out of their own way.”

She nods and minutes tick by.

“I meant it,” she says out of the blue, her voice serious. She must read the confusion on my face because she continues, “I need . . . No, that’s not quite right. I want to be with you, Luke. I’m ready.”

Taking our joined hands, I press my lips to the back of her hand. My chest feels tight, knowing she finally feels ready to take this step with me.

“Okay, sweetheart. I am too.”

We arrive at our hotel in the late afternoon. It isn’t fancy by any means. Thankfully, Grace pulled some strings and got us rooms at the last minute. Pine-green carpeting lines the hallways, and gold accents adorn the walls, giving it a definite ’70s-roadside-hotel feel.

“Here are your keys.” Grace passes them out one by one. After loading into the elevator, we agree to meet in the lobby in an hour.

“This place is nice.” Greer tries to contain her laughter.

“Let’s just hope the room is better,” I say.

“As long as I’m with you," Greer smiles, "it could be a box outside Taco Bell.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. It'd be a Chick-Fil-A at least.”

She playfully bumps her hip into mine as I swipe the key card. Holding the door open, she enters, and I drag our bags inside. We’re pleasantly surprised to find the room has been recently renovated sporting a navy, forest-green, and gold color scheme. The best part though is the view.

“Holy shit.” I motion for Greer, who’s busy unpacking. “C’mere and look at this.”

“Oh my god.” Her mouth hangs open as she takes in our view, the Front Range of the Rockies. “This is incredible.”

A knock echoes at our door. Greer opens to reveal Sutton and Navy, already decked out in glitter and bright colors.

“Did we do this right?” Sutton spins, barely containing her excitement. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen my sister this relaxed and ready to let loose.

“Why am I wearing about eighty pounds of glitter?” Navy groans as she plops down on our bed. “I don’t even allow Rowan to use glitter in the house.”

“Because that’s what people wear at EDM shows,” Sutton says. “Right, G?”

“I mean,” Greer says, “I guess a lot of people do, but I’ve never actually been to one before.”

“You mean to tell me,” I say, “for all the bass and house music I hear blaring constantly from your house, the music of your soul as you like to tell me, this’ll be your first show?” Greer told me about the concerts she saw with Brian and their friends, so I assumed she’d already been to an EDM show before.

“Brian wasn’t the biggest fan of electronic music,” she says. “But he finally relented and got us tickets. That’s where we were headed the day of the accident.”

Fuck. We’d talk about the details of her accident many times. I’d known they were headed out of town to a show, but she never said anything more than that. I feel like an asshole now, planning this whole trip not realizing it’s a bigger deal in more ways than one.

“Greer, we had no idea.” Sutton keeps her eyes low.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew,” I say.

“You guys.” She’s holding her hands out in her best calm down teacher pose. “I promise this is more than okay. Actually, I’m so freaking happy we’re doing this. The anniversary is going to be hard enough. I’m glad I get to experience something like this with people I love.” Her eyes sweep over to me.

“Cool,” Navy says, “so now that the awkward part of the trip is over, can someone please explain to me why the hell I need to wear this much glitter? I am not a glitter person.” Navy presses her fingers over her glitter adorned cheeks.

“Because” Grace says, stepping into our room, “glitter is like shiny bits of joy and happiness.”

They’re soon lost in a sea of makeup and sparkles helping Greer get ready. Not one to intrude, I change quickly, give her a kiss, and head down to meet the guys in the bar.

We arrive at the venue early enough to get decent spots in line. I’m not sure what to look at—the venue or the people. Some are in jeans and T-shirts, but the ones in full rave attire garner my full attention. Bright colors, jewels, braids, platform boots, and glitter (a lot of glitter) adorn a majority of the fans.

“This place is insane,” Hunter says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and the surrounding amphitheater.

As we enter through the gates, we’re awestruck. Even though we saw pictures of Red Rocks, thank to Greer, they do not do this place justice. We meander through the entrance, and within two hundred feet, the walkway opens up to reveal a massive open-air amphitheater tucked between rock structures. We make our way to the edge of the venue and look over the railing. Row upon row of massive step-like benches lead down to a large stage. The name Red Rocks fits perfectly because the rocks are a gorgeous rust-colored hue.

“What is EDM music anyway?” Vinnie asks as we make our way to the merch booth.

“EDM stands for electronic dance music,” Greer says. “It’s created digitally and with analog equipment. It's traditionally played for large crowds at clubs and raves. Think music you can dance to. And there are so many subgenres. The guy we are seeing tonight is melodic house.” Greer spouts off her musical knowledge all while guiding us into the venue like some kind of tour guide. It’s not until she realizes she’s walking alone that she whips around to find us cemented to the ground.

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Hunter walks up to Greer and slings his arm over her shoulder.

“Just a little bit,” she answers with a full belly laugh. She waves her hand, motioning for us to hurry up, and we clear the distance to the merch line. She’s only told us a hundred times that it would be our first stop. I love seeing her in baggy concert T-shirts back home, and now I know most of them are from shows she’s attended. After she’s gotten her goods, we take our time exploring the venue.

We attempt descending to the bottom of the venue, but we give up to find a bar somewhere at the mid-level. We find a spot near the middle of a row just as the opening act, a local DJ, comes on the stage to get the crowd primed and ready.

The sky is a vibrant fire of oranges, yellows, and pinks as the sun makes its final descent. One by one, the lights of the amphitheater fade, leaving us in a semi-darkness. The crowd erupts into screams and surges to their feet.

I should be watching the stage, but I’m captivated by a certain woman. Greer stands dwarfed between me and Hunter with her hands bracketing her face, eyes and mouth open in wonder. Lights flash on stage as a low drumbeat begins, and she bobs her head to the beat.

Flashes of light dance in her eyes and bounce off the glitter speckled over her cheeks. Other sounds join the drum beat, building in tempo before dropping out completely, as the stage opens to reveal the artist. The beat picks up, and Greer bounces on her toes, wide-eyed and eager, like a little kid.

“Here it comes!” she yells.

The beat drops at the same time smoke and fireworks erupt on stage. Greer and the crowd go absolutely wild. As one, they jump and wave their hands in the air. It’s hard to hear anything over the roar of the crowd, their voices merging into a deafening chorus as they scream-sing every lyric.

“Holy hell,” Hunter yells over the music. “This is fucking crazy! I've never experience anything like this.”

“I know!” Greer yells back. “Isn’t it amazing!” She reaches for my hand and interlaces our fingers. She can’t control her dancing and jumping though, so I move behind her. She wiggles back into me, and I rest my hands on her hips.

No one in our group has ever experienced a concert like this before. It’s not soon after the artist begins to play that we’re lost.

Lost to the lights.

Lost to the music.

Lost to the beat.

Each song seamlessly blends into the next. Some are fast; some are slow and moody. I’m surprised by the number of songs with little to no lyrics. However, it’s the ones with lyrics that are fan favorites; everyone around us belts every word. Each beat drop causes the crowd to surge, collectively pulling in, deep down, before exploding in a burst of energy.

I can’t help but laugh at my friends varying states. Greer is completely immersed—singing, jumping, even headbanging. Sutton and Navy are on the Greer party train, copying everything she does. Hunter can’t take his eyes off my sister. Vinnie stands there, mouth open, staring at the stage, possibly having an out-of-body experience. Adam and Grace are snuggled up together, faces bright, soaking in the energy of the crowd. But as the show progresses, Greer gets more and more subdued.

“Are you good?” I say into her ear.

“Yes.” Her chin wobbles.

“Hey,” I turn her to me. “What’s wrong?” She buries her face in my chest and wraps her arms around my middle as tears soak through my shirt.

She looks up at me. “This is . . . this is . . . ” she pauses and attempts to get control of herself. “I’m so overwhelmed right now. In the best way possible. Thank you for this.” She stands on tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. Before I can deepen our kiss, the DJ transitions into a new song, and Greer reels away from me, eyes wide as can be with a smile to match.

“Oh my god!” she says. “It’s my favorite song!”

Lasers illuminate the dark sky around us, cutting through the night with their vivid colors. Greer must intuitively know it’s the last song. I’ve never seen someone experience music like her—hands raised high, voice loud and full of life, tears streaming down her face. She keeps reaching back to make sure I’m still there, so I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her.

As the seconds tick by, I pull her closer into the warmth of my body. Bending down, I place my mouth near her ear, the words I've longed to say for weeks finally slipping out:

“I love you.”

Her body sinks into me as she pulls my arms tightly around her chest. More tears fall, and her heartbeat thrums erratically beneath my touch. Her chest rises and falls with quick breaths.

Suddenly, she wheels around and throws her arms over my shoulders. Just before the beat drops one final time, she says loud enough for everyone to hear, “I love you too.”