Page 38 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Um, no. Just checking in back home.”

Her eyes seemed to widen slightly as her gaze darted between me and the two people on my screen, and soon, I realized how she could have misinterpreted what I said.

“That’s my best friend and his sister.”

Not my girlfriend.

“Oh, hi,” she said awkwardly, although she did seem to visibly relax at my clarification. She bit into the bottom of her red lip for just a second before stopping herself. “I just came in to see if you wanted to go to the party together.” She paused, her cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of pink. “I mean, not together, but you know what I mean. Do you want to share a ride—a car?!”

God, she looked flustered and kind of miserable.

It was fucking adorable.

I grinned. “Yeah. I’d like that. Give me a second, and I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, of course. No problem.”

She made a beeline to the door.

“Bye!” my idiot friends called out, both waving again like idiots.

Gonna kill them both.

So very slowly.

She glanced back and waved back, clearly amused. I waited until she left before I turned around.

“Who the hell was that?”

“Where the hell are you?”

Both questions were thrown at me in unison. Compared to the other Creed siblings, Presley was closest to us in age and at that moment, they’d never looked more alike. Sandy-blond hair, striking blue eyes. Mischievous grin.

I let out a long-suffering sigh.

Would they forgive me if I just hung up and turned off my phone?

“When you sent me that text this morning that said all was well, did you forget to mention something? Or someone?” Hendrix prodded.

“Look, it’s kind of a long story. One that I obviously don’t have time for, but to answer one of your questions, I’m at one of Macon’s rentals.”

“One of?” Hendrix’s brow rose. “I thought your brother was a small-town sheriff. How the hell does he own multiple properties?”

I shrugged, grabbing random shit, like my wallet and keys, and shoving them in my pockets. “Hell if I know. How does a runaway with mediocre talent get to travel with world-famous bands?”

“Dude, nothing about you is mediocre,” Hendrix said, staring at me intently.

Presley and the rest of the Creed family didn’t know about my offer, and it unfortunately had to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

“I second that,” Presley chimed in, looking up from her phone as she typed something out.

If she’s texting the rest of the family about this…

“If that’s true, it’s because of your dad. He made me into what I am today.”

Hendrix shook his head. “Nah, he merely coaxed it out of you. You can’t squeeze blood from a turnip.”

“What?”

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