Chapter 17
Creed
“FLETCHER MCGOWAN.”
Turn around.
Creed, turn around.
JUST PULL A FUCKING U-IE AND TURN AROUND, MAN.
“I’m not turning around!” And now I’m yelling…at myself.
I pull into a parking spot at the hotel where Cort Records has reserved a conference room to meet with our new potential manager.
Cort himself wasn’t too thrilled about the accommodations, considering all meetings were typically held at the recording studio, but with the state that one of his band members was in, he was willing to bend for this one.
I’m about to fire off texts to Riley and Collins separately to check in on each of them, but then I think better of it and do the rational thing. I create a group chat between the three of us and label it “Cuddle Puddle”.
ME: How are we feeling?
ME: Everything okay?
ME: Do you need anything?
ME: I miss you.
ME: Both of you, I mean.
ME: Jointly.
ME: Together.
I’m about to exit the car when my phone chimes.
SWEET BOY: Woah, where’s the fire?
STARDUST: This is going to be fun, I see.
I chuckle at their responses.
ME: You didn’t answer my questions.
SWEET BOY: Which ones?
ME: Watch it.
STARDUST: I’m feeling fine, I’m okay, and I need you.
Fuck me. Is it still too late to turn around?
SWEET BOY: Ditto. What Snow said.
What Snow said.
He needs me.
Maybe the group chat was a horrible idea because how the fuck am I going to concentrate now?
ME: But you’re okay? You don’t need me to come back?
SWEET BOY: Quit stalling and get to the meeting.
SWEET BOY: You know Cort can be a grumpy ass if he’s kept waiting.
ME: Pfft. He’s sunshine.
STARDUST: I thought that was me?
ME: It is you, baby.
SWEET BOY: Not me?
I bite my lip and groan.
ME: Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be? I create a group chat and you gang up on me?
SWEET BOY: You make it too fun. Go meet the new manager so you can get back here sooner.
I have to try mighty fucking hard to resist the urge to respond because if I do, I’ll never leave the fucking car.
I can’t help that my skin physically itches when I’m not near them at all times.
Is it unhealthy? Yeah, probably.
But do I feel ashamed? Not one fucking bit.
Bear and Blair are waiting for me in the lobby, which has thankfully been secured and cleared by Asher’s team.
We haven’t given a statement to the press about Riley because we don’t exactly have a story concocted yet.
Which is fine because as far as the world knows, nothing has happened.
We’ve been damn lucky that we’ve avoided all publicity while we were looking for the two of them.
I don’t want speculation of Riley’s character to come about if we say it was a car accident that got him busted up. Figuring that out is a problem for future Creed, though.
“How are they?” Bear asks as I approach him and Blair, giving them each a one-armed hug.
I couldn’t stop the wicked smile from consuming my whole face if I tried. “They’re so good, B. Both are awake and healing, a ways to go for each of them, but they’re good.”
“Riley’s awake??” they both ask at the same time, their eyes alight with excitement and relief.
“He is.” I smile wider, but it falters a little when it dawns on me that I’d been too wrapped up in soaking up his affections that I’d completely neglected keeping my friends and bandmates informed.
Well damn, I feel like an ass.
Just a little. Not a lot. I could never regret being selfish in those moments.
“Have they gotten to see one another yet?” Blair asks as he shifts from foot to foot nervously.
He’d grown close with Collins from the moment he joined us, and he’s been like a little mama bird to her ever since.
He may be into her brother, but Collins is his lavender person.
The familial bond just kind of snapped in place between the two of them and there’s no undoing it.
Doesn’t mean I’ll let him outshine me in the caretaker department, though.
“They have.” I nod, my smile softening when the mental image of the two of them reconnecting for the first time after those two utterly tragic weeks they were kept apart pops up in the forefront of my mind.
“They need each other. Complete one another in a different way than Collins and I do, than Riley and I do.”
My throat grows annoyingly tight.
“She thought she lost him, so having the fucking privilege of seeing those two coming together again?” I look away and slowly shake my head. “There are no words.”
I look back to Bear, who shakes his head, trying to keep his feelings in check. I don’t dare call him out on it because this is the first time he’s shown any semblance of emotion in months.
He runs a hand through his long blonde strands and clears his throat.
“I’m glad for them, man. Truly,” he offers with a hand to his chest, showing me his sincerity.
I know Bear’s had his own shit going on, on top of everything we had gone through.
And I’m aware he’s still fucking pissed that he wasn’t a part of the rescue team because he is also protective of Collins and Riley.
“I’m fucking relieved that they’re both awake now. That they’re both doing good.”
There’s so much more to the two of them simply being ‘good’ but we don’t have time to go into that deep of detail, so I opt for a topic change and moving forward.
“Alright,” I say, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together, before I lose my shit and start crying in front of them. “Enough of the heavy shit for now, shall we meet the new guy?”
The mood shifts, and Blair starts grinning like a madman, his mismatched eyes alight with mischief. Bear just rolls his and tips his chin to the hallway that leads to the conference room, and I follow the pair.
“You’re gonna love him,” Blair singsongs over his shoulder as we get closer.
My steps falter when I spy a vertical tattoo that starts at the nape of his neck and stops just beneath the hem of his black, sheer top.
Roman numerals that I recognize as a date.
A date that I know for a fact to be the day that Asher a was discharged from rehab.
It has to be a coincidence, right? Lachlan sent Blair to us, and Asher used to work closely with the McTavish brothers. Did they know each other before? I guess it’s not entirely impossible and I can’t fucking wait for the day that Asher tells me the whole story.
Blair pauses outside the door and looks at me, his expression shifting just a little when he says, “I didn’t know Steve before, but Lachlan sort of clued me in. I promise you that you won’t have to worry about Fletcher behaving like that with anyone in the band.”
“So no daddy vibes anymore, huh?” Bear teases when he reaches for the handle.
“Oh no, those totally still exist,” Blair corrects but continues, “but I know that’s important to you, so clarification seemed necessary to share.”
“I appreciate that,” I offer, and I mean it.
We all file inside to the private room where Cort is already standing from his seat, dressed in his typical navy suit that he always wears to these meetings, as a fucking mountain of a man pushes to stand next to him.
The guy has at least five inches of height on me, and I’m 6’1”.
They both round the table as Cort speaks up. “Creed, this is Fletcher McGowan.”
He smiles and offers his hand. I take it in a firm shake, noting all the ink that covers his skin when his sleeve shifts.
“Nice to meet you, Fletcher.”
He smiles, and apart from his salt and pepper hair, the creasing around his eyes is the only tell that he’s older. This guy is built like a fucking lethal weapon.
“Likewise, Mr. St James,” he responds with none other than a fucking Scottish accent. Granted, it’s not as strong or pronounced as the McTavishes, but the irony is not lost on me. Cort had recruited this guy, so I know he’s not connected to them, but still.
“Just Creed,” I correct, releasing his hand.
“Creed, then.” He confirms.
“Shall we?” Cort says, gesturing to the table where he’s got his laptop set up along with several stacks of paper.
“Ayla will be here shortly,” Bear announces with a bit of an edge to his tone as he takes his seat at the far end of the table. “We’ll get her caught up when she arrives, but for now, let’s keep moving forward.”
I nod, not touching that attitude switch up with a ten foot pole.
We move through the legal jargon for Fletcher, who already seems pretty well versed in the world of band management, from scheduling tours to marketing, and even seems to be a step ahead for handling upcoming press releases about Dark Sins.
After the paperwork is finalized and out of the way, I turn to Cort. “We’ll be using my home sound studio to record, at minimum, mine and Riley’s portions of the upcoming album.”
“Creed, recording from home will take—“
“Longer, I know. But I’m not going to force Riley out into the spotlight before he’s damn well good and ready. Traveling to and from the studio downtown every day while we record is only going to be a feeding frenzy for the tabloid sharks that linger around the building.
“He and Collins don’t need that type of exposure, on top of the fact that Riley’s going to need physical therapy.
” I swipe a hand over my face when a heavy sense of worry crashes into me.
“I don’t even know if he’ll be able to play anytime soon.
I’m not going to push him. I’d rather he just be at home with me where he feels safe and not like he’s a fucking bug under a microscope the second he steps outside. ”
“Do we need a replacement? Even if it’s temporary?”
“No.” The answer comes out harsh all at once from me, Bear, Blair, and Ayla, the second she pops into the room. She sits down next to me, and I notice her eyes are red rimmed and her nose is pink; she’s been crying.