Chapter 26 Abigail
Chapter twenty-six
Abigail
The lights dim a fraction as Beau leans into the mic, the guitar settled low against his hips, as if it belongs there. The first chord rings out, rich and smooth, and when he starts to sing—
Oh.
Oh, wow.
“Nothing on You” by Cody Johnson pours out of him like it’s written into his bones.
His voice is raspy and warm, the kind that comes so effortlessly you don’t know where it’s been hidden this whole time.
It rolls through the room, wraps around my chest, and sinks straight into places I didn’t know music could reach.
I’m lost in it.
I forget where I am for a second. Forget whose arms I’m in. Forget everything except the way Beau looks under the stage lights. So confident. So relaxed. So damn devastating.
Jasper chuckles low near my ear. “Knew it,” he murmurs. “Told you he’d be your new favorite.”
He’s not my favorite, none of them are. But seeing him like this could be my undoing. “He’s… really good.”
“Yeah,” Jasper says, fond and a little smug. “Good’s one word for it.”
Before I can respond, the air around us changes.
I feel it before I see it.
Jasper’s posture shifts, subtle but deliberate, and when I glance at him, two familiar figures stand just behind him. Lincoln and Lawson. Jasper looks between them, something unspoken passing silently among the three of them.
And then, Lincoln is there.
He takes me without asking, smooth and unhurried, sliding into Jasper’s place like a choreographed dance. One hand settles at my waist, his thumb brushing the curve of my hip through my jeans.
My breath stutters as he holds me close.
“You okay?” he asks softly, green eyes searching mine.
“More than okay,” I admit breathlessly.
He smiles, slow and knowing. “Good.”
He dances like he does everything—steady, deliberate, grounding.
Being held by Lincoln feels like standing in the eye of a storm.
Safe. Strong. Like nothing bad can touch me as long as I’m right here.
Lincoln spins me out, but instead of pulling me back in, he lets go of my hand, and Lawson’s takes its place.
He takes my hand with quiet confidence, pulling me closer until my boots brush his, his palm warm on my back, his other hand lifting my chin just enough to bring my gaze to his.
When I look up, his eyes drop to my mouth for half a second before snapping back to mine, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to run my hand through the hair along his jaw.
“You’re havin’ fun,” he says. It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I breathe. “So much.
Beau’s voice fills the bar as Lawson’s mouth curves into a soft smile. “Good. You deserve it, Honey.”
The way he says it—like my happiness is a given and not a question—makes my chest tighten.
By the time Jasper’s arms wrap around me again, my entire body feels flushed. The room feels hotter. Louder. Electric.
My skin hums where each of them has touched me, like they’ve left imprints on my skin.
Jasper’s hand settles low on my back, and I can feel the tips of his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my jeans as Beau sings the last verse.
I lean into Jasper, savoring every second of the way his body fits against mine.
The way each of them fits against me.
None of them pulled away.
None of them hesitated.
And something clicks into place with startling clarity.
They don’t mind.
Even here. Even now. Even knowing exactly what the other is doing.
They want me.
Beau’s song ends to a thunderous applause, and a beat later, he’s off stage, weaving through the crowd, straight toward me. He’s flushed, breathless, and grinning like he knows exactly what kind of damage he’s just inflicted.
Without warning, he reaches for me, spinning me once, twice, three times until my laughter bubbles up and the world blurs.
“Well?” he asks, as I crash gently against his chest, his hands on my waist. “What’d you think?”
I’m dizzy. Drunk on the moment. Warm all the way through. “That was… incredible, Beau.”
His eyes light up. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say again, breathless now for an entirely different reason as he reaches up and plays with the end of a lock of hair.
He leans in just enough to lower his voice. “Ready for another drink?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Please.”
Something flashes in his expression at the word please. “C’mon, Darlin’.”