22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter twenty-two
Carter
Our hands are glued together by the time we reach the top floor, sweat slick between our palms. She could’ve let go in the elevator, at any of the million chances on the way up. But she didn’t. Now there’s a whole suite of people about to see us.
We stop just short of the penthouse door. The hallway light catches the diamond in her nose and highlights the gray in her eyes.
“You good?” I ask quietly, thumb brushing her knuckles.
She tilts her head up to look at me. On the surface she’s playing it cool, but her hand is not so subtly crushing mine. “As long as Liam doesn’t find out,” she says. “Then, yeah. I’m good. I want to be able to fall asleep in your bed every night.”
My lips twitch before I can stop them.
Fucking same.
Before I can say something stupid to ruin the moment, she pushes the door open.
The suite is dim, and the TV is off. The noise is coming from outside. We cut around the corner into the main living space, and there they are: my brothers. Kai, Theo, X, and Chris are spread out across the huge balcony.
Takeout bags and cartons of food cover the long outdoor table, chopsticks stuck at odd angles. Beyond that, Paris is laid out in lights, the whole city visible in the distance.
The balcony doors are open, warm air rolling in, and someone’s Bluetooth speaker is bleeding classic rock low under the noise of their conversations.
Theo’s trying to untangle two boxes of noodles. Kai has a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. Xander’s already halfway through a curry, shirt off, tattoos on display because . . . who the fuck knows.
All of them glance up when we step out.
Their eyes drop to our joined hands.
The silence that follows is almost comedic. Then they all go right back to serving up food.
Subtlety’s never been my thing, so I don’t bother easing into anything.
“Violet and I are fucking,” I announce, still holding her hand as I tow her toward the low couch by the railing. “What are we eating?”
Kai barks out a laugh, nearly spilling his beer. Theo blinks once, then reaches blindly for a takeout box and shoves it into my free hand.
“Pad kee mao,” he replies.
I pass the noodles to Vi and grab a red curry for myself. I draw in a lungful of basil, chili, and fried garlic.
Next to me, Vi covers her face with one hand. “Fuck, Carter. Do you not have any tact?”
“What?” I say around a mouthful of rice.
“About fucking time,” Kai says, lifting his bottle in a lazy salute. “Also, not news.”
“Yeah,” Xander adds, mouth full. “You two haven’t exactly been subtle.”
Vi drops her hand from her face and stares at him. “What does that mean?”
Snorting, Kai grins. “You want a list, or do you just want the highlights?” He tips the bottle back and drains a long pull without looking up.
Violet flicks me a glare and mutters something into her noodles that sounds a lot like “stabby.” Her shoulders shake, though. She’s trying not to laugh and failing.
I nudge her thigh with mine.
Something clicks in my brain, and I straighten abruptly, chopsticks still in hand.
“Oh. Ground rules.” I point the sticks at each of them in turn, conductor-style. “Anyone tells Liam before I do, I’ll rearrange your face. And I don’t mean a playful slap. I mean, I will fuck you up. That goes for telling the PrimeTime+ crew, too.”
Theo taps his bottle to his forehead. “Message received.”
“Loud and clear,” Kai drawls. “Terrifying, ten out of ten.”
“Mate, nobody is telling Liam,” Xander says. “We’re not suicidal.”
Chris finishes tapping on his phone and slides it into his pocket. “I’ve been briefed.” He gives me a flat look, then wanders over with two bottles in hand. He holds one out to me, eyebrows raised.
I let my gaze drop to the beer, then back to his face, and shake my head once.
“Yeah, not drinking for a while.”
They all pause.
I clear my throat. “Had a scare,” I say, casual as I can manage. “Stage two cirrhosis.”
Theo’s mouth drops open. Kai flicks a look at Chris, then back at me. Even X freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth.
“I’m fine,” I add quickly. “Just gotta take care of my shit now. Cut back, check in, try to stay healthy.”
The silence stretches. Then Kai leans forward and smacks the table. “Good for you. Doesn’t take much for drinking to spiral on tour.”
Theo grabs his bottle and tips it out. Foam hits the balcony floor in a hissing splatter. “Proud of you, man. We could probably all stand to ease up a bit.”
X nods, jams his fork into his mouth, and throws me a thumbs-up.
Chris eyes me for a long moment, like he’s about to say something more. Instead, his mouth twists into a smirk. “Speak for yourself,” he tosses over his shoulder to Theo. “Drinking’s the only way I survive you clowns.”
He sets the bottle he was holding out for me on the table, cracks open the other one, and takes a long gulp as he heads back to his seat.
Beside me, Violet doesn’t say anything. She slides her pinky finger along the side of my hand until it hooks.
When I glance at her, she’s looking straight ahead.
The conversation devolves into a chaotic mess, the way it always does when the band is half-drunk and relaxed. Old tour stories roll out, one-upping each other about the worst venues, the worst showers, and the most predatory promoters.
Vi is curled beside me, one knee bent, foot tucked under her. Every time she shifts, the urge to drag her into my lap gets stronger.
She doesn’t stay silent on the edge of the conversation, the way she used to as a kid. She jumps in.
Theo and Kai are in a heated argument about who wrote some obscure riff first, a band from the eighties or some nineties group who ripped it off. It turns into a shouting match over a chord progression.
“You’re both wrong,” Vi says finally, dry as fuck, licking sauce off her thumb. “It was Galloway. You can hear the progression in ‘Rusted Crown.’ Everyone stole it from them.”
Four male heads swing her way.
Theo squints. “There is no way you know that.”
She levels him with a look. “I grew up with this idiot blasting bootlegs in my living room, remember?” She gestures a thumb at me.
Kai narrows his eyes, thoughtful. “She’s right,” he tells Theo. “The live version from ’88. Carter used to make us watch it every New Year’s.”
Xander slaps the table. “Oh my god. She’s right. Fuck, that’s embarrassing.”
They all groan, but Vi smirks into her noodles.
She’s always been sharper than people gave her credit for. Especially when it comes to music. My chest swells with pride.
Eventually, the conversation drifts again, this time to our worst onstage fuck-ups. Theo brings up a show five years ago when I dropped a whole verse and made up lyrics on the spot. I don’t even remember doing it until he sings the bullshit line I used. Everyone cracks up.
Still smiling, I push off the couch, go inside, and come back with my acoustic. I drop back into my seat, cigarette hanging from my lips, and roll a lazy run of chords under their chatter.
The smoke coils into the night sky. The view tugs at my attention—Eiffel Tower glowing in the distance, traffic sliding along the streets below—but I stay with the sound of my brothers around me and the press of Violet against my side.
Every now and then, she looks at me. Watching.
I couldn’t have done Madrid without her. The memory of that day creeps back in, right alongside the results. The doc’s words, the scans, all of it. My liver’s had enough of my excuses and needs a break. But I’m not on a countdown. Definitely not in the way I thought.
I’d been gearing myself up to dying young for months, like it was a concrete fact. Easy excuse for why I didn’t bother taking care of myself.
Then she walks back into my life, and suddenly that neat, fatalistic story doesn’t work anymore.
I want time.
More shows and nights like this. More of her.
Time to not be a complete fuck-up. To fix what I broke, starting with the girl currently stealing the cigarette from my lips, taking a drag, and handing it back to me with a look that says don’t push it.
If laying off the bourbon, easing up on the smokes, and listening to doctors buys me that time, it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.
For the first time in years, I’m no longer lonely. I know exactly where I belong. Right here. On this very balcony with these idiots. And her.
I glance sideways. She’s laughing at something Kai just said, eyes bright and face soft.
She feels me looking, and her gaze slides to mine.
I’m in love with her. Have been for years, if I’m honest.
The band’s good. Violet’s here with me, and my liver’s not a death sentence. Just one thing left.
Liam.
That conversation is going to be a fucking nightmare.