14. Fourteen
Fourteen
Luke
I’ve been sitting at my keyboard for an hour, but nothing comes. No melody, no progression, just memories of Lila in that stairwell and later in Pixie’s kitchen three nights ago, looking everywhere but at me. Damn, what was I thinking, cornering her like that? Telling her I was trying to end things with Crystal? As if that would mean anything to her. As if she’d want to hear that from me while I’m still tangled in this mess.
“Real smooth, asshole,” I mutter, getting up from my keyboard.
Now, all I can do is give her space. She deserves that much .
The problem is space feels impossible. We live in the same duplex, separated by nothing more than a thin wall. Every time I step outside, I half expect to see her tending to her herbs on the front porch or sitting on the back deck with a cup of coffee.
I’ve allowed her to avoid me since the dinner party, which is harder than it should be. And the truth is, I miss her. Not just the tension or the heat between us, but the ease of it—the way we used to talk, sitting out on our deck, laughing over nothing and everything.
I need to fix this. Even if I can’t have her the way I want, I don’t want to lose her as a friend.
The sound of car doors closing draws me to the window. Lila’s pulling grocery bags from her back seat, looking soft and casual in yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt. Her hair’s pulled up in a high ponytail, exposing the curve of her neck where I’d run my lips over her that night at the charity.
Before I can think better of it, I’m heading to the front porch and to the driveway.
“Need help?” I call out, keeping my distance.
She startles slightly, then offers a careful smile. “I got it, thanks. ”
“Lila, wait.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Can we talk? Just... talk?”
She hesitates, her hands tightening on the bags. “I guess so. But I should put these away first.”
“I’ll get those,” I say, reaching for the bags before she can protest.
“You don’t have to,” she starts, but I ignore her, grabbing a couple of the heavier ones and following her to her door.
Once the groceries are on the counter, she crosses her arms, leaning back against the counter and raising an eyebrow. “What’s up, Luke?”
I shove my hands into my pockets, suddenly unsure where to start. “I wanted to apologize,” I say finally. “For the other night.”
As her face flushes a deep red, I clarify. “At Pixie’s dinner party.”
She gives a brief nod, but I can see the wary tension in her shoulders. “What about it?”
I stay where I’m at, giving her space. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” I meet her eyes. “You were working—doing your job. Being professional. And I... I made it awkward.”
“A little bit, yeah.” She crosses her arms, but some of the tension leaves her shoulders. “Maybe more than a little bit—it was distracting and uncomfortable.”
She’s not wrong, but hearing her say it still stings. I nod, taking a step back to give her even more space. “You’re right. And that’s on me.”
“Luke—“
“I know I screwed up. I know I crossed a line at the charity that I had no right to cross. At least, not until I’ve ended things with Crystal completely.”
Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s trying to decide whether she believes me. She opens her mouth to respond.
“Just let me finish,” I interrupt gently. “I miss you, Lila,” I say, my voice rough. “Not just... the other stuff. I miss you as a friend. I miss talking to you. And I don’t want to lose that.”
I look up, meeting her eyes. I take a deep breath and then continue. “We’re next-door neighbors, Lila. And before everything went sideways, we were friends. Good friends. I miss that.”
She’s quiet for so long I think she might ask me to leave. Then: “I miss that too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Lila turns, putting some of the groceries away. I watch without rushing her. She finally turns to me. “We can be friends,” she says, her voice quiet. “I think we need to be.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with the ache of knowing it’s not enough. “Thank you,” I say.
She nods, her eyes flicking back to mine. “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping back toward the door. “That’s all. For now.”
That night, I join her on the deck with a six-pack of beer and a hopeful smile.
“What’s this?” she asks, glancing at the beer.
“Friendly neighborly peace offering,” I say, holding it out to her.
She sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “Fine. But only because it’s been a long day.”
I settle into my chair the evening breeze cool against my skin as we sit side by side in the fading light. For a while, we don’t say much, just sipping our beers and listening to the sound of the waves in the distance.
It feels like old times, but it doesn’t. There’s a weight between us now, an unspoken understanding that things have changed.
“We’re leaving for Cleveland tomorrow,” I say as she takes another sip of her beer. “Ten days, we have a few shows in the Midwest.”
“I saw that on your website.” Her cheeks pink slightly at the admission. “The venues look amazing.”
“Yeah, Emily’s outdone herself.” I glance over at Lila, trying not to notice how good she looks just sitting there. “I heard how your private chef business is booming,” I say with enthusiasm. “That’s huge.”
Her face lights up. “I still can’t believe it. Jenny and I have been working on menus and logistics all week. ”
“You’re going to kill it.” I mean it. “The way you handled that dinner party... you were completely in your element.”
“It felt right,” she admits. “Like everything finally clicked into place.”
“Speaking of clicking...” I take a breath. “I need you to know something. About Crystal.”
She stiffens slightly. “Luke, you don’t have to—“
“I do.” I set my beer down. “I’m working on ending things. The right way, not just—It’s complicated with her father and—other things, but I’m figuring it out.”
“Okay.” Her voice is carefully neutral.
“But until I do, until everything’s resolved...” I meet her eyes. “We’re just friends. I won’t cross that line again. It wasn’t fair to you, and you deserve better than stolen moments in stairwells.”
She looks away, but not before I catch the flash of hurt in her eyes. “We both knew what it was.”
“Did we?” I lean forward. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Luke.” Her voice holds a warning.
“Right. Friends.” I force a lighter tone. “So, tell me about your new clients. I’m sure you’ll soon have everyone eating out of your hand.”
She laughs, and something in my chest eases. We spend the next hour catching up on everything new in our lives—her business plans and the band’s upcoming shows. But underneath it all, there’s a current of awareness. Every accidental brush of hands, every shared laugh that lingers too long... We’re playing at being just friends, but we both know it’s a lie.
Because friends don’t notice how the setting sun paints gold across each other’s skin—friends don’t track every smile, every slight shift of our bodies. Friends don’t feel this bone-deep ache to reach out and touch each other.
“I should head in,” she says finally. “You know me and early mornings.”
“Yeah, me too. Bus leaves at seven.”
We stand awkwardly, neither quite sure how to end this new version of us. Finally, she gives me a small smile.
“Have a good tour, Luke.”
“Thanks.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Take care of yourself, Country. ”
Forcing myself not to want more, I turn and head inside, hearing her door close softly behind me, but I don’t look back.
I find myself at my keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys. The melody comes easily this time—a bittersweet progression that captures everything I can’t say out loud. About pretending not to want what you can’t stop wanting and how sometimes doing the right thing feels exactly like torture.
Some lines, once crossed, leave permanent marks on your soul.
The roar of the crowd is like electricity, a living, breathing force that surges through the arena and into my veins. The energy is addictive, the kind of rush that makes you feel invincible, like you could take on the world and win. The lights are blinding, the bass vibrating in my chest, and every time the audience screams the lyrics back at us, it’s a reminder of why we do this.
Nights like this are everything I’ve ever wanted—the music, the connection, the high of knowing I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. But as I step offstage, the adrenaline fading into a dull hum, I’m left with the hollow ache of what’s missing—Lila.
Even here, hundreds of miles away, she’s still in my head. I keep replaying our conversation on the deck, the way she smiled at me, soft and hesitant, like she was holding something back. I miss the way we used to be—the easy way we could talk about anything and how her laugh could make even the most ordinary moments feel special. I wonder if we can ever find our way back to that.
But I can’t go to her—not yet. Not until I’ve figured out how to end this thing with Crystal and Marcus.
Later, after the rest of the band has gone to their bunks or headed out to unwind, I find Nate sitting in the lounge area of the tour bus, his phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask, sitting down.
“Not unless you’ve got stock tips,” he says, glancing up with a grin.
Leaning back against my chair, I ask, “How’s the investment looking?”
“Solid,” he says, setting his glass down. “I’ve been tracking it every day. We’re still on track for a big return. A few more weeks, and we should be golden. ”
“Good,” I say, nodding. “I need that to pan out.”
Nate leans back in his chair, studying me. “You okay, man? You’ve been... off lately.”
“Yeah,” I lie, “Just got a lot on my mind.”
He doesn’t push, which is one of the things I appreciate about Nate. He’s not the kind of guy to pry unless he thinks it’s necessary.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on it,” I add, standing. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“Will do,” he says, raising his glass in a mock salute.
The next morning, I seek out Cass on the family bus. He’s already awake despite the early hour.
“Hey, Luke,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need your help,” I say, getting straight to the point.
He nods, motioning for me to have a seat. After I sit down, he turns to me, his tone serious. “What’s going on?”
“I need someone who can look into Marcus. His business dealings, any skeletons he might be hiding.”
“This about protecting your father’s company?” His eyes are shrewd. “Or about getting free of Marcus’s daughter?”
“Both.” I drop into a chair. “Something’s not right, Cass. The timing’s too perfect, the pressure too calculated.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t trust Davidson. I’ve been thinking about it more and more, and I need to find out what he’s planning. I also want to look into my dad’s business. Just to make sure there’s nothing I’m missing.”
“Okay,” Cass says slowly. “Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Not really,” I admit. “I was hoping you might know someone.”
“I do, actually,” he says. “Jaxson Gibson. He’s a PI He’s sharp, discreet, and he has handled stuff for us in the past. I think he’d be perfect for this.”
Cass pulls out his phone and sends me the contact info. “He’s not cheap, but he’s the best. And Luke?” His expression turns serious. “Be careful. Men like Marcus Davidson don’t take kindly to people poking around their business.”
“I need to know what I’m dealing with.” I stand, pocketing my phone. “Before he tries to lock me into something I can’t get out of,” I say firmly. “I’m done playing Marcus’s game. Whatever he’s hiding, I’m going to find out. And I’m going to fix this, once and for all.”
He nods, understanding. “Call Gibson. And Luke? Whatever you find... be ready for it. Men like Marcus rarely play clean.”