Chapter 20 Micah
TWENTY
MICAH
My mom had given me a scare, and it had been a stressful few days, but luckily all she needed to recover was some rest. I’d planned on spending some more time with her, but she had scoffed at the suggestion.
“I don’t need you hovering,” she’d admonished as she shooed me out of the house. “You can go back to your work now.”
“That’s a first,” I’d joked. “Normally you’re the one telling me to take a break.”
But it was true that the stress of my mom’s illness was competing with the stress over our next album. The band was meeting about our song choices and I was near jittering with anxiety. The only thing keeping me from flying apart was Kay’s presence.
It wasn’t that her presence was calming. Nothing about Kay could ever be called calm. But there was a sort of reassurance, knowing that the person I relied on would be there next to me, just like she had promised.
“How do we want to do this?” I asked the group as we gathered in the practice studio.
We all had different processes for writing songs.
Anya kept it simple and composed on piano.
The ones who played multiple instruments, like Zain, could produce a fairly finished piece by himself.
I liked to do a lot of the music production using software on my laptop.
Until We Break had no one single process for creating music.
“Let’s hear all the demos before we share our thoughts and feedback so we don’t influence each other,” Zain suggested. “We’ll do a draw to choose the order so it’s random which song goes first.”
“I like it,” I nodded, and we got started.
I thought I knew my band members well. I thought I knew my friends, my family, well.
But it wasn’t until I heard every song in a row that I realized how much we had all changed since we were kids.
It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just something of a wake up call.
No one piece was exactly what I would have expected from them.
We had all grown as artists, as people, and it was reflected in our work.
But that was where we had a problem.
“Anya’s song has very few lyrics,” Zain was noting. “Kind of surprising from someone people call a poet, right?”
“Sometimes you can inject more meaning into something with fewer words,” Anya replied.
“Zain, what happened to your killer guitar solo?” Finn asked.
“I never really planned on having one,” Zain shrugged. “I didn’t think it fit with the vibe of rest of the song.”
“I thought your song was awesome, Zain,” Kaylee said. “Really experimental and fresh.”
“Thanks,” Zain said smugly. “I was trying something new.”
And there it was.
“Guys…” I hated to bring down the mood, but I needed to say something. “These songs are all great. Fantastic, even. But—“
Zain and Finn groaned.
“Why does there have to be a but?” Finn asked.
“But,” I continued, “they’re not going to fit with the album’s sound.”
“What do you mean, fit?” Zain frowned. “We haven’t even decided on the songs, let alone the sound.”
“We’ve developed a certain style over the years,” I reminded them. “That’s what our listeners, our fans, expect. If we take a one-eighty and release something like this, they’re not going to like it. It’s not going to sell.”
There was a beat of silence. Then they all spoke at once.
“That’s true,” Anya mused.
“Who cares?” Zain growled.
“It makes sense,” Finn nodded.
“Does it matter?” Kay asked.
I tried not to wince at the overlapping voices. Chris stayed silent, but there was a pained look on his face as his gaze slid across each band member.
“I know the business side of things isn’t fun to think about,” I spoke up, “but it’s something we need to consider. If we produce an album that the label doesn’t think will sell, they’ll just sideline it with no promo, or worse, refuse to release it at all.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Zain scoffed, folding his arms and leaning so far back in his chair I thought he might fall.
“Entertainment labels have done it to plenty of others before,” I replied wearily.
“That’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?” Finn said, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’re entertainers.”
“We’re artists,” Kay shot back immediately with a frown.
“Can’t we be both?” Anya asked softly.
The rest of us sat there without speaking for long moments.
“Why don’t we all take a few days and let our thoughts simmer,” I said. “We can come back later this week and discuss it again. And,” I added, “if any of you feel like tweaking your songs, that’s cool too. We can see what else we come up with.”
They all agreed, although tension lingered in the air, and everyone soon filed out of the practice room. Except for Kay.
“Hey,” she said softly, putting a hand on my arm. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Me too, actually.” I was a little worried that she wanted to talk about what had just happened with the band, but something else was weighing on my mind and I needed her opinion.
“You go first, then,” she offered, almost sounding relieved.
I pushed messy strands of hair back from my forehead, my lips twisting as I considered how to put my concerns into words without rambling.
“Do you think it’s unfair of me to leave my mom home alone so often?” I asked.
Kay tilted her head and looked at me carefully. She got a thoughtful look on her face.
“Do you think it’s unfair of you?” she asked, repeating my words back to me.
“I’m worried something will happen when I’m not there,” I said.
“It was one thing when my dad was still alive. There was always someone around to watch over her. But now? What if we hadn’t been visiting when she had that attack?
What if she’s been having those attacks when I’m not there and she’s just not telling me so I won’t worry even more?
What if something happens when we’re on tour? What if—”
“Micah,” Kaylee interrupted my rapidly spiraling thoughts. “Have you told your mom how you’re feeling?”
“Not yet,” I admitted. “I don’t want her to know how much this is weighing on me. I don’t want her to feel guilty.”
“Discussing this with her is probably your first step. Or so I’ve been told,” she muttered under her breath. Then she shook her head. “I know you don’t want her to feel guilty for worrying you, but I also know she would hate that you’ve been stressing out about this.
“I’m just not sure how to start the conversation,” I said, running a tired hand over my face. “I don’t know the right way to bring it up.”
“I know the feeling,” she said, and for some reason her tone sounded almost rueful.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do,” I said.
“How I can help my mom and also alleviate some of my concerns. I was thinking of bringing in a support worker to visit her a couple times a week. Or for an hour every day. Just to check in on her, maybe help out with the chores that are sometimes difficult for her. But she’d hate it,” I continued, countering my own idea as I began pacing.
“I know she would. She already hates me fussing over her. She scolds me if I come over too many times a week. Inviting a stranger into her home to watch over her? No way.”
Drained of energy, I flopped down on the closest sofa and let my head rest back against the cushions, closing my eyes.
The sofa dipped as Kay sat down beside me. She snuggled up against my side, the same way she had dozens, hundreds, of times.
It should have been comforting. It was comforting. Being around Kay always made me feel better.
But having her sit next to me on the sofa was different this time.
Before, we’d simply been friends. Best friends. Now that we were together? Snuggling up close with our shoulders pressed together wasn’t innocent and chaste anymore.
Instead, her warm body was like a blazing inferno searing into me. Her very presence was enough to send my thoughts reeling, my previous worries flitting away like startled moths. The primal side of me began to push its way to the forefront of my mind.
My fingers yearned to dig into the flesh of her hips. My lips hungered to capture hers. My hands craved to caress her bare skin.
Kay tucked her head under my chin, her soft hair tickling my jaw, and I nearly lost it.
I was on the brink of shoving her down into the sofa, parting her thighs and giving her more pleasure than she’d ever had in her life.
I wanted to kneel before her and worship her naked body.
I wanted to dive between her legs and drown myself in her taste.
I wanted to part her wet folds with my stiff cock and revel in her soft heat.
I wanted to wrap my hand around her neck and feel every vibration of her throat as she cried out my name.
I wanted to bury myself under her skin until all she could feel was my touch.
I wanted to consume her whole.
Now that Kay and I were together, every touch lit a fire inside me. Every touch propelled me to a place full of wild, hedonistic fantasies.
I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay still, keeping my eyes closed.
Kay was offering me the same kind, compassionate comfort she always had whenever I’d been upset in the past. She probably had no idea of the uncontrollable thoughts racing through me.
The last thing I wanted to do was pounce on her like some animal.
I had to restrain myself. I had to go slow and treat her with respect.
I couldn’t let my more savage urges take over.
I told myself to cool it and willed the hardness in my jeans to soften before she noticed.
“Do you want me to come with you when you talk to your mom?” she asked.
My mind was so far gone I almost forgot what she was talking about.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Those were the only words I could grunt without giving away the roughness in my voice.
Kay lifted her head to look at me with her beautiful green eyes, so soft, so loving. She placed a hand on my chest, right above my heart. My cock twitched at that slightest touch.
I snapped.
Fuck it.
With no warning I yanked her into my lap and crushed our lips together, stealing her breath as she squeaked in surprise.
I gripped her waist tight as my tongue plundered her mouth, hot, wet and desperate.
She squirmed against me, but not to get away.
No, she was pressing herself closer, responding to my kiss.
Yes, I thought. Melt into me. Let me taste you. Let me have you.
I let my hands travel up her ribcage until my thumbs brushed against the underside of her breasts. She let out a needy little whimper, delicious to my ears, as she writhed against me.
“Uh, guys?” said Chris as he stood on the second last stair leading down to the practice room.
We stilled. I hadn’t heard his heavy footsteps.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He truly did sound apologetic.
I groaned, dropping my forehead to rest in the crook of Kay’s neck and shoulder. I supposed I should have been glad it wasn’t Zain or Finn who caught us. At least Chris wouldn’t make a big fucking deal out of it.
“What?” I said flatly.
“There’s something you need to see,” he said, brandishing his phone. “I emailed it to you both.”
Kay left my lap reluctantly to sit beside me once again while I subtly adjusted myself. We both pulled out our phones and opened our email.
Chris had sent us a news article. It was only the link, but the title was in the URL.
The Real Reason Behind This Young Female Drummer’s Success: Close Source Reveals Forbidden Romance with Bandmate
My fingers clutched my phone as rage immediately filled my chest.
Fuck.