19. Garrett
GARRETT
“Do you think it would be too much to create a memorial to Emerson’s mother? Like a bench or something?”
Theo’s coffee cup is halfway to his mouth, his hand frozen in midair as he stares at me.
“You want to know if you should make a memorial to your fake wife’s deceased mother?”
“You don’t need to say it like that,” I grump as his eyes widen.
“I’m pretty sure you need to hear it like that.”
“Why?”
“Because, yes, Garrett, it is too much.” He exhales heavily through his nose as he lowers the cup to the counter.
“You are getting really attached to her, and while I think the two of you would be a great couple in real life, that’s not what this is supposed to be.
If you do a tribute to her mom, she’s going to associate that thing with you, and that’s not fair for her to have that reminder when your arrangement is over. ”
“Huh,” is all I can manage, a little hurt that hypothetically she wouldn’t want me tied to any kind of memory.
Gentler, he adds, “You have a big heart, Garrett. I’m not saying you can’t send her flowers or something next year, but a permanent structure is not fake-marriage appropriate.”
“Fine,” I huff as I pick up my phone, not entirely convinced as I type out a message.
GARRETT: Is a bench or something too much to honor Emerson’s mother?
ROAN: Yes
COLT: Also yes
Damn.
I must be really off if Colt even agrees.
ROAN: Bold of you to assume Theo didn’t already text us
Looking up, Theo smirks, moving his phone from under the lip of the island to the surface with a flourish.
“I know you better than you know yourself, Garrett.”
COLT: Dude you’re in deep already—are you sure you shouldn’t cut ties now?
GARRETT: I can’t
ROAN: I could probably reconfigure the paperwork
GARRETT: No.
GARRETT: I can do this
Fuck.
Can I do this?
I try and think back to the last time I was in an actual relationship and come up short, not because I can’t remember the last woman I was with but because it wasn’t like this.
Being with Emerson has scrambled my brain.
She doesn’t care about my fame or money or any of it. She just wants me to show up and be present.
And also fuck her senseless.
“You should go write something,” Theo says, his head canted to the side. “I bet you could write a hell of a song right now.”
Ugh.
But it’d be about her.
Or based on her.
And that’s not allowed either.
Tossing my phone down, I drag my palms over my face and hold back the scream that’s building in my chest.
I finally find a woman I could make a life with but she’s only with me because she’s contractually obligated to be. Awesome.
“Stop it,” Theo commands, his voice pulling me from my runaway thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, turning to head toward my studio.
“I’m sending Roan over to check on you tonight to make sure that’s true,” he calls after me, but I just nod as I continue down the hall to the stairs and flip on the light.
The basement was a labor of love, the need to soundproof evident, but I wanted it to be a gathering space for music and stories and peace.
Dark gray walls, cream plush carpet, and black leather furniture make it feel like you could easily lose track of time. Guitars, posters, and other memorabilia serve as decorations—each piece serving as a memento of each stage of my musical career.
A separate space holds the sound booth and all the instruments we might need at any given time.
When was the last time we were down here?
Not just me, but the band.
Letting my eyelids flutter closed, I let my feet sink into the carpet and exhale slowly through my nose as my mind wanders.
Months and weeks and possibly a year has passed since the four of us gathered here, and even then Darren had been antsy, his body vibrating more from the need to get out and less because of the music.
I’d overlooked it then and a hundred times after while we were on tour, in between tours, and simply home.
My heart hurts at the realization, pressure building in my chest as I look around the space I’ve always been so proud of.
I didn’t want him to take this away from me—not just the band, but the space where Descending North grew to what it is today.
We’d been happy once.
All of us.
But it feels like I’ve been in some kind of toxic relationship with Darren, thinking he will change if I just believe in him.
Maybe Theo was right; I have a big heart, and right now I think it may be my downfall.
EMERSON
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask quietly as Garrett pushes his pad Thai around the takeout container. We settled into the couch not long ago, him on one side of the couch with me on the other, my legs stretched out toward him while we watch the Illinois Blues play.
“Sorry, I—”
“Garrett,” I say gently as I nudge him with my foot and place my own container on the coffee table, “what happened?”
His eyes are sad when they meet mine. “Stuff with the band I’m not ready to talk about.” I nod even though this isn’t one of those things I understand. I face almost everything head-on and do my best to eliminate emotion from the decision the best I can.
But Garrett isn’t like that.
He wears his heart on his sleeve, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral even as my blood starts to boil. Someone hurt this beautiful, sexy man, and the urge to destroy whoever it was moves to the top of my priority list.
I just need to know who it is.
“You’re cute when you look like you want to decimate an entire civilization,” he says wryly, draping his arm over the back of the couch.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
“Really, are you okay? You’re sad and I’m not good with navigating sad.”
“You’re good at everything.”
“I’m good at solutions. I love problem-solving and kicking ass, but you need softness and I don’t always get that right.”
“But you do this,” he says as he grips my ankle and shakes it side to side, “and it’s just as good.”
I’m also terrible at receiving compliments like this—intimate ones with my husband and his soulful gaze.
“How did you come up with the name Descending North?”
“Music is like being suspended in time and space. The songs where you lose yourself and nothing else matters. Solace. Gratitude. Reprieve. All of it exists in those minutes and seconds, and I like that feeling of weightlessness.”
“Like a compass spinning out of control.”
“Like a compass spinning out of control,” he repeats as his lips curve up into a grin that rides the line between boyish mischief and filthy rock god.
It’s a heady combination.
“Doesn’t hurt that your last name is North either, I suppose.”
“A happy coincidence.” He dips his head as he speaks.
“I didn’t mean for it to be my band, but it just happened that way.
Organic. I knew what I wanted and the guys were on board.
We could drive around in a van back and forth across the state and even the country, each of us taking turns at the wheel and never really getting on each other’s nerves. We just wanted to play, you know?”
“I do. When things are hard at work—when the problems seem too big—we scale back. We’ll turn that issue upside down, simplify the questions, and ask if it meets the basic needs of whatever we’re looking at.
If it does, then we break for the day so we can return with a fresh perspective.
If it doesn’t, then we vote on how to proceed. ”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it? You’re at the I have a problem and I need to come back and reassess part of the process. The band worked when you all had the same goals and wants individually and as a whole. It’s not unusual for things to change over time.”
“I don’t want it to change,” he admits and my heart squeezes.
Go to him.
I want to tell the little voice in my head to shut it because it will only complicate things down the road, but he was there for me with my dad and I can be there for him.
Setting my food down, I crawl across the cushions until I’m straddling his lap, his warm hands dropping to my hips like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” I tell him, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth and letting him taste me when his lips find mine.
“I hate that I care.”
“You’re allowed to care, Garrett.” Pulling back, I make sure he can see the sincerity in my gaze.
“You’re supposed to care. That’s what makes you the face of Descending North.
You’re also allowed to be pissed. Your dickface of a guitarist is hurting the thing that you love.
He’s hurting you, and you’re allowed to determine when you’ve had enough. ”
“Logical…” he muses, his fingertips sliding up under my shirt. “Sexy…” His breath is hot on the column of my throat as he presses a kiss against my fluttering pulse. “Powerful.”
“Are you trying to make me wet, Rockstar?”
He chuckles, and I arch my back, pushing my breasts into his face. My hand cups the back of his neck when he nuzzles against them. “Is it working?” he manages and I can’t help but smile.
“It might be.”
“Show me, Em. Take your pants off and ride my cock. Make a mess of me, baby.”
Don’t mind if I do…