1. Liam
one
Liam
Present Day
T here are dozens of local gyms in Uptown. Why the fuck did I have to pick the most distracting one?
As I curl a thirty-pound dumbbell in each tattooed hand, my gaze instinctively seeks out the swish of a long blonde ponytail in the wall of mirrors.
It’s hotter than hell in here tonight. Even with the industrial fans battling the Texas heat, sweat rolls down my spine, sticking the thin fabric of my sleeveless black tank to my chest and abs.
Yet Stasi showed up in thick, baggy layers. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume she’d scooped up some random guy’s clothes off her bedroom floor to rush to the gym.
According to her twin brother, Hail—my best friend and ex-bandmate—Stas is single. And honestly, it’s fucking me up.
I want her in my clothes. Want her naked in my bed.
Stasi hasn’t noticed me among the hulked out gym crowd, and it’s a bit of a hit to my ego.
As the retired lead guitarist of the popular metal band, Atonement, I can’t remember the last time I had to work to gain anyone’s attention. Not that I’m actively trying to ruin my friendship with her by adding sex to the equation .
But she hasn’t reached out once since I became a permanent resident in the Dallas area.
A cackle of laughter has my attention drifting from her to a group of muscled regulars. The three guys smirk and nod at Stasi as she adds another steel plate onto a barbell.
I set my dumbbells back on the rack. She isn’t lacking sass when it comes to conversations with Hail, but sometimes she gets stuck in her head and questions her voice.
The shorter guy from the group with a leaner build and too much swagger moves in, tugging on the end of her ponytail to get her attention. Anger swims through my veins.
Not your business, Liam.
Last time I intervened in a situation, I almost beat the shit out of some nobody harassing Hail’s boyfriend in a hotel lobby while we were on tour.
Took me weeks to shake the fear of who I almost became in those heated seconds.
My piece of shit dad is six feet under now, but I still feel his presence looming over me, pulling invisible strings to manipulate my thoughts and emotions.
With my headphones in, I can’t make out what the guy says, but the furrow between Stasi’s brows tells me she’s not interested.
Body language, fucker.
Her expression twists further when he points at the plates on the barbell. So what if he can’t see the strength she hides under all those clothes? He doesn’t have any right to step in. She’s weathered enough condescending bullshit from her parents for one lifetime.
Oblivious gym rat struts to the end of the barbell and starts pulling off plates.
Yep. I’m done watching .
Popping out my earbuds, I leave them blasting Atonement’s latest recording as I drop them into a pocket of my sweats and saunter over to them. I’ve listened to the track a hundred times. I’ll listen to it a hundred more until I figure out what’s not working.
Positioning myself right behind the guy interrupting Stas’s workout, I tug on his hair. He whips around, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared, but as his eyes dip down my body, he naturally eases a step back. “Can I help you?”
“Definitely not,” I reply darkly.
The guy rolls his shoulders like he’s mentally working himself up to a confrontation. I can tell he’s fighting the instinct to run. I know the gut feeling well. Spent my teenage years lifting weights so I’d never have to experience it again.
He has the audacity to look at Stas for backup. I wait for her to tell him off, but she drops her head and starts picking up the plates he removed.
Concern prickles in my chest. Where has her fire gone, and who the fuck extinguished it? Is she struggling with family stuff? Would Hail know, or is he too wrapped up with the new album and calls to his long-distance boyfriend to notice what’s going on with her?
I step into the gym guy’s view. “No chance, bub. That’s her signaling you to fuck off.”
He huffs. “She could have told me that.”
“Oh, she did. You’re not listening .”
“Whatever. Not on me when she gets hurt,” he mumbles, strutting off to rejoin his flock. I keep my gaze on them as I catch mutterings about the “situation”. Of course he’s the benevolent gym hero who was approached by an asshole.
I am an asshole. I don’t give a shit who thinks it .
Forcing a deep breath, I squat to pick up a plate and return it to the barbell. Stas gives me a calculating look. Did I overstep?
I fall victim to one of our staring games, melting into her pretty brown eyes framed by an unholy amount of darker lashes.
We stare so long, the years we've shared unfold around us. Suddenly, I'm eleven years old, accepting the hand of a quiet but strong friend helping me through her window.
Time warps, and I'm seventeen, laid out on Hail's bedroom floor, my fingers tangled in the silky hair of a pretty girl who didn't know her worth as her brother plays guitar in the background.
I'm twenty-six, fighting to keep my gaze from taking in long, toned legs and flashes of rebellious smiles that quicken my pulse.
Stasi breaks eye contact first, crashing me hard into the present where I'm set to spend the rest of my years alone.
Doesn't mean I can't admire her. She's caught me looking more than a few times. It’s quickly becoming an addiction trying to make her sun-kissed, freckled skin flush and her eyes glint with something wild.
“You’ve got your scary face on,” she whispers, brushing against me to slide the clamp in place on the barbell.
I should give her space. However, I can’t find the willpower to move away as I breathe in the scent of her citrus body wash.
My gaze runs down the soft curve of her neck, visualizing my hand wrapping around it. I’d tilt her head to the side and bring my tongue and teeth to her skin so I could taste her.
She’d be too sweet for me.
Regretfully, I ease back. “Most people would say that’s my normal face. ”
When she spins around to face me, she has to lift her chin high to meet my eyes. The impulsive thought is there to grab her by the thighs and hoist her up against my body so we can be on the same level.
“That’s not you, Liam,” she says firmly.
Something tightens in my chest. “No?”
“No.” Her conviction is enough to snuff out the lingering anger from the gym guy messing with her.
Sighing, I reach out to tug at the hem of her baggy sweatshirt. “What’s with the get-up?”
She purses those full lips at me. “It’s not a get-up. It’s called comfort.”
I fight back a grin, pleased to have her sass back.
Without thinking, I ask, “You coming to the party at my house this Saturday?”
“I wasn’t sure if I was invited.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
She frowns. “Because no one asked me.”
“You don’t need an invite, Stasi.”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from tugging it free. It’s rare that I have to practice restraint anymore. My success in the metal music world has earned me a ticket to take what I want in most situations.
“Do you need help getting ready?” she asks.
“Not unless you want to help.”
An audible breath escapes her. “It’s like talking in riddles with you. Yes, Liam. I’d like to help.”
We get stuck in another dangerous staring game. As much as I want to close the distance between us, I won’t be the one to make the first move. She knows what I’m about. I earned my reputation as a heartbreaker .
I try to think back to when my thoughts about Anastasia Koval shifted.
If I had to pinpoint a moment, it might have been the night I gave her the keys to my 1969 Firebird as a joke while I wrangled a drunk Hail out of a music venue after a show.
We were nothing more than a popular local band at the time. Kids still obsessing over a dream.
I knew Stas couldn’t drive a stick, but I also knew she wasn’t one to turn down a challenge. With a quiet stubbornness, she’d climbed into the driver’s seat.
By the time we made it to Hail’s apartment an hour later, she was shifting smoothly enough to have me hard. Fuck, if that didn’t make for a confusing night.
It was the first time I’d thought about kissing her.
Stasi turns away from me and drops onto the bench. I watch her tighten her ponytail, imagining the drag of her polished red nails down my bare back.
My jaw clenches. This desire for something more with her was so much easier to avoid when I was touring.
It’s definitely a mistake inviting her over.
The last thing I want to do is hurt her.
I’ve only experienced a connection like this with one other person, and I haven’t spoken to him in seven years.
Pushing aside thoughts of Beau and then visions of Stasi in tempting positions, I move behind the barbell and give it a smack. “You gonna show everyone up or what?”