Chapter 4
FOUR
MICAH
I’d noticed.
Of course I’d noticed.
What kind of musician wouldn’t recognize a change in lyrics for one of their own songs, a song that had been performed dozens and dozens of times before?
Kaylee must have asked Anya to do it. And Anya had said yes. I had no idea what the two of them were playing at. Why they had done it.
Well, I supposed I knew why. The real question was, what was Kaylee expecting me to do? She was practically daring me to say something about it, to protest.
I knew the song was mostly about her mom, but the whole, I’ve changed, I’ve aged, part? I knew that was one hundred percent aimed at me.
I snuck a peek at Kaylee. As if sensing I was staring at her, she shifted slightly in her seat and met my eyes with a challenge. The rich green shone as bright as any stage light. I lowered my eyes, unable to best her in a battle of wills. No one could out-stubborn Kay.
Even with the sweat of exertion on her brow and her now-frizzy hair she was gorgeous. In fact, she may have been even more attractive like this, all mussed up and disheveled. It made me think about what she might look like after—
“So Zain,” the host asked, turning to our lead guitarist. “You’re one of the main composers of Until We Break, correct?”
“I compose a lot of the songs but I wouldn’t say I’m the main one,” Zain said confidently. “We all contribute.”
“And you write many of the lyrics, right?” the host turned to Anya. “I’ve heard people refer to you as a true poet. Would you call yourself that?”
Anya’s brown eyes went wide at being addressed.
“I do write poetry,” she said quietly, struggling to keep from ducking her head down and hiding behind her long black hair.
“I’m clearly the main songwriter,” Finn jumped in. “A lot of our number one hits came from the brilliant mind of Matthew Finnley.”
“Brilliant mind, huh?” Zain said, sticking his elbow into Finn’s ribs. “Gotta love this one’s modesty.”
“It’s not bragging if it’s true,” Finn said with a grin. “Maybe you can be the brilliant mind on our next album.”
“Speaking of the next album, Micah, when can we expect it to drop?” The host turned directly to me as he asked.
A heavy lump formed in my gut.
“I don’t think our label would like it if I told and ruined all their careful PR plans,” I said. It wasn’t really a lie.
When was our next album dropping, he wanted to know.
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?
And by million, I literally meant million.
The label was sitting on a huge wad of cash to promote our next album and they had been clamoring about it for what seemed like a year now.
Our contract with the label was tight. Even though we’d been young when we’d signed it, my mom and dad had seen to that.
But I still worried. If we didn’t release our sophomore album fast enough, would the label put us on the back burner and shift their focus to their other artists?
Would they wash their hands of us altogether, sick of waiting for us and ready to move on to the next big thing?
But we weren’t close to being ready to record yet.
We weren’t even close to finalizing all the songs yet.
Anya was still tweaking lyrics. Finn was still fiddling with bass lines.
Zain was still working on his, quote, ‘killer solos’.
And here were Chris and Kaylee, working on brand new material, too.
We should have started recording six months ago. We should have been done the album by now.
But we just weren’t ready.
That age-old music industry adage had turned out to be true: You had your whole life to write the songs for your first album. You had two years to write the songs for your second.
The pressure was getting to me. I tried not to let it, but I couldn’t help it. That was why I’d been working so hard on the production side, learning from other bands and producers. I wanted to be ready when we started recording. I didn’t want my lack of skill to keep us from being the best.
Our first album had been a major success, and everyone expected our second to be the same. Expectations were high. So was my anxiety.
And then on top of all of that were Finn’s antics over the last few months and Zain’s moping before he got together with his girlfriend. Was it any wonder I just could not deal with my feelings for Kay with everything else that was going on?
Of course, both of the guys had eventually resolved their issues. The band dynamic was steady again. We were all working hard together. Things were back to normal.
As normal as they could be, with the ever-present tension between me and Kaylee.
I’d thought moving out into my own place would put the brakes on this… thing… between us. But it hadn’t. If anything, it had made things worse, making it stand out harshly just how much things had changed between us.
I wished I could have talked to my dad about it. I wished I could have asked for his advice. He would have known just what to say, what to do. But I was on my own with this. I had to fumble along as best as I could.
I hadn’t meant to avoid Kaylee. I didn’t even consider that she would see it that way.
I just… needed space. Some time apart. I couldn’t handle seeing her every day.
Not in those adorable little sleep shorts at eight in the morning when she was eating her cereal.
Not in those brand new swimsuits that were decidedly inappropriate for a younger sister, but were perfectly acceptable for a grown woman.
I couldn’t handle seeing her beautiful green eyes light up every time she came down the stairs and saw me there. I couldn’t handle her sweet vanilla scent every time she took hold of my arm.
And I absolutely could not handle seeing that sad, heartbroken look on her face every time I pulled away.
I just needed space.
But Kaylee had taken it the wrong way, and now she was angry with me.
Even more than anything else, I couldn’t stand Kay being angry with me.
I had to reassure her that I hadn’t meant to avoid her. I hadn’t planned on being so absent. I just… hadn’t realized. A week of space had turned into two, then four, and then the next thing I knew, months had gone by.
I couldn’t blame Kay for being upset with me. I was upset with me. I’d never wanted to hurt her.
I had to find a way fix this, before it was too late.
And I hoped to hell it wasn’t too late already.