Chapter 13
Tate
My flight was delayed but I still get to the hotel in time to shower, change clothes, and meet up with the band.
We have a brand-new tour bus, and it’s nicer than our old one, so that’s a bonus.
It’s still a bus, and I’m still going to hate sleeping on the small bunks, but I have one more night at a hotel before we head for Ottawa tomorrow.
“So.” Angus gives me a grin as we head for the venue. “How’s Summer?”
I point to the shopping bag of pies at my feet. “She sent presents.”
“Did she send pie?” Mick asks, reaching for the bag.
I playfully slap his hand. “She did—but you’ll wait until I’ve fed the crew. We can have what’s left.”
“How is that fair?” Jonny demands.
“Because I said so.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Did you have fun?” Sam asks.
“Duh.” Mick interrupts before I can answer. “Why else would he have stayed instead of coming with us?”
“She’s great,” I say sincerely. “Sweet and sexy and a lot of fun.”
“You going to see her again?”
That’s a million-dollar question.
“I don’t think so,” I say after a beat. “There’s no point, you know? Her mom has Alzheimer’s but there isn’t a memory care facility nearby, so she’s in a regular nursing home. They keep her with the understanding that Summer is available to go in and help calm her when she gets agitated.”
“Oh, that sucks.” Sam looks sympathetic.
“Because of that, Summer can’t get away much. And with our schedule, it would be nearly impossible for us to spend time together. Under different circumstances, I might have flown her to some shows, seen what there is to see, but I don’t think there’s a chance.”
“Well, lots of fish in the sea,” Jonny says, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m sure there will be plenty of beautiful ladies after the show tonight willing to help you forget all about Summer.”
“Yup.” I say the word but deep down I’m a little…revolted.
I can’t wrap my head around getting laid tonight after the last two days with Summer.
We have no plans to see each other again but I almost feel like it would be cheating. It’s completely irrational, but I can’t help how I feel.
“I’m more interested in the pies,” Mick says, trying to peek into the bag.
“Hey!” I smack his hand again and we all laugh.
Luckily, we’re at the venue so I don’t have time to think about anything but tuning my guitar and making some adjustments to tonight’s set list.
I break out the pies in our dressing room after soundcheck, and there’s a flurry of excitement as the crew each grabs a piece.
I brought three of the chocolate peanut butter and one of her key lime, and everyone is impressed.
Remembering what she asked of me, I make sure all of them mention her and use her hashtag on social media, and all of us do it.
I don’t know if it will really help her business but I want to do something nice for her anyway.
It doesn’t seem like Summer has a lot of good in her life.
Not for the first time, I wish things could be different.
But as my mother used to say—there’s no use crying over spilled milk.
She made it clear she didn’t want to start something that would almost certainly end in heartbreak, and I’m still reluctant to put myself in a position where I have to prioritize a woman over my music.
Angus, Mick, and Sam seem to be doing it okay, but I’m not sure how it would work for me.
Logistics aside, I’ve never been one for relationships.
If I’m honest, I haven’t had many since high school. One in college, and one right after, but both lasted less than six months and I don’t miss either of them. I just figure I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to be ready to settle down any time soon.
And Summer is the kind of girl that makes you want to.
At the very least, she made me second guess myself, and no other woman has ever had that effect on me.
It’ll pass.
It might take a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, but I’ll find my groove on tour and forget all about big golden eyes, silky honey-blond hair, and curves that seem to fit perfectly when I’m buried inside her.
Fuck.
If this is the tamer, less poignant equivalent of a broken heart, I am definitely not a fan.
I pick up my guitar for sound check, and I’m immediately taken back to the nursing home, everyone gathered around me, so much joy on their faces.
It was a different vibe from one of our shows.
Even the really good ones, where the crowd knows every word to every song and keeps yelling for more, long after we’re done for the night.
No, the residents at the nursing home were getting a special treat, their own private concert in a place that probably doesn’t have a lot of joy for them.
They’re not all sick or dying, but many of them are lonely.
Weary. And my presence brought excitement into what appears to be a pretty mundane life.
Not to mention Tricia, whose moments of lucidity meant so much, both to me and to Summer.
Summer.
It’s going to be a lot harder to forget her than I predicted.
“Tate?” I see the curiosity on Sam’s face and realize I missed my cue.
Shit.
“Sorry.” I shake it off. “Give me a minute to get my legs back under me.”
“Someone was definitely rode hard and put away wet!” Jonny laughs, a teasing glint in his eyes.
I ignore him because I don’t want to encourage that kind of talk but I need to focus or they’re going to make assumptions about why I’m distracted.
It’ll be a lot easier if they don’t bring up Summer anymore, but that’s probably too much to hope for since they loved her pies.
And while the selfish part of me wishes they wouldn’t engage on social media, I’m not going to deny her the opportunity to hear them tell her how much they loved the pies.
“You doing okay?” Angus asks me as we finish sound check and walk toward our dressing room.
This is a small club, without many amenities for us, but at least we have a place to relax until the show. I might go get a drink an hour or so before we play. Tonight feels like the kind of night to get drunk.
“I’m fine, why?”
He chuckles. “Because you’re distracted as fuck. And don’t give me any bullshit about how I’m wrong or that you’re just tired or something.”
“I am tired,” I say. “I was up until like five this morning.”
That’s not entirely true.
We had sex three times while we were waiting for the pies to finish.
Then we showered and slept for a while. I woke up around four with a raging hard-on, and Summer rolled over and rode me like a rodeo queen.
We dozed again and woke up for the day at seven, which resulted in another quickie before I had to get ready to go.
“Yeah, I’m sure making love to a beautiful woman was a real hardship,” he says drolly.
“Yeah, yeah.” I grab a towel and rub it over my face.
“She got under your skin, huh?” He’s perched on the edge of a small couch, watching me.
Angus and I are close. Hell, he chose his stage name—Angus Jeffries—to match my actual surname.
But it’s a little different now that he’s in a relationship with Ryleigh.
We had a bit of a blow-up last year when we found out that he’s a billionaire, from a wealthy family, and not another broke musician like the rest of us.
It took a little time to rebuild the trust but now that I’ve had time to think about things, I understand why he chose to keep that part of his life private.
So we’re back on an even keel and it feels like I should tell him how I’m feeling.
I just don’t know that I’m ready to hear his opinion.
“A little,” I mutter, still wondering how much I want to open up.
“You want to talk?”
“Not really.” I lean against the wall. “It was just…nice. Being away from the chaos for a few days. Thinking about something other than music, although…” I tell him about my impromptu performance at the nursing home.
“Oh, that’s really cool,” he says. “So this wasn’t just sex. You were immersed in her life for a few days—it’s only human to be feeling a little bit of loss, like you walked away from something real. Something genuine.”
“You want the truth?” I ask finally.
“Of course.”
“I feel bad because she doesn’t have a lot of happiness in her life.
She works and takes care of her mom. That’s it, for the most part.
I got a glimpse of what it’s like for her and she lives in this old house that needs not just renovation, but stuff like the wood of the steps leading up to the front door is rotting.
Her kitchen is so small I don’t even know if it could be renovated.
Her washing machine is probably from the nineties.
Maybe older. And yet she fought me when I paid for her groceries—and when we got to the nursing home, she initially told me to wait in the car.
Like, she legit didn’t want anything from me, just to spend a little time with someone who made her feel good. ”
“Sounds like you both got something you needed,” he says. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiles. “You caught feelings.”
“Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair.
“How did you leave things?”
“Like I said earlier, there’s no way for us to do this. She can’t go anywhere, and I can’t be there. And once we go to Europe, it’ll be even worse. We talked about it, everything’s cool between us. I just…”
“You just wish it could be more.”
Christ.
That’s not the direction I wanted this conversation to go.
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Can I just ask about the pies?”
“Sure.”
“Could we get her to make us some for the holidays?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “She’s a one-person company and works full-time at the diner. How many are you talking about?”
“Ryleigh and I are thinking about hosting everyone for Christmas this year, at our place.”
“I don’t think she’s set up to ship,” I say, “but you could reach out to her. I’ll give you her info.”
“That chocolate peanut butter pie is one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he says. “And it’s Ryleigh’s favorite, so it would be a fun surprise.”
“If you can work out the logistics, I’m sure she’d do it.”
“Cool.” He looks up as the rest of the band filters in.
“There better be pie left,” Mick mutters, rubbing his hands together.
It makes me smile because Summer would love this.
Dammit.