Page 73 of Spite Crush

“Han Shot First? You named your band Han Shot First?”

“We named ourselves HSF,” he argued. “That’s the band’s official name.”

“So you really have always been a giant nerd.”

“Says the guy whose life-sized Boba Fett is keeping my Darth Vader company in storage.” He shook his head. “Well, now that you know I’m going to have to kill you.”

“That’s fair,” I agreed, reaching out and pulling him down into my lap. “But then you’ll never get to see the amazing house I just bought for us.”

“You liked it?” he asked. “Thank God. I’m so sick of house hunting.”

“You’ve done literally nothing,” I reminded him.

“I sent you the listings.”

“Okay, you played on the internet, doing the fun part, and sent me schlepping all over Portland to look at them.” I chuckled. “But yes, I loved it. And you will, too.”

“I have no doubt,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. “Because I love you. And I really love Portland.”

“Yeah?”

I’d been worried that he might not want to uproot his life in L.A., but when I signed with the Panthers he was the first one of us to put his house on the market.

“Yeah,” he said. “And when Rye and Austin get here, we’ll have friends to hang out with.”

“We have friends,” I reminded him. “A whole team full of them.”

“Yes, and I adore them. I’m just excited to get to work, and it’s hard coordinating with Rye on the other side of the country.”

“I know. How is the label coming along?”

“So good,” he said, shifting to straddle my legs so he could wrap his arms around my neck. “I got the website up today and everything has been filed and it’s official. Intrepid Records is open for business.”

“Babe, that’s great.” I kissed him gently. “I’m so proud of you. Your own record label. That’s incredible.”

“It is a little,” he agreed. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I didn’t do shit,” I insisted.

“You believed in me.” He shrugged. “That’s more than most people have done.”

“You’re an internationally famous rock star, you have three platinum albums, your songs are on movie and video game soundtracks, and you’re fucking hot. Who wouldn’t believe in that?” I kissed him again. “You did that. All of it.”

“Save it for the bedroom, Dempsey,” he teased, his cheeks tinging pink at the compliments.

“If you insist.” I stood up and carried him down the hall, happy to know that this might be the last time we had to fuck in a rented home on a lumpy queen-sized mattress.

Epilogue Two

~Kellen~

Three Years Later…

“Are you coming to the bar with us tonight?” Zak asked, his voice muffled as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

“I can’t,” I reminded him. “I’m going to see that band, Ominous, with Rye tonight. He really wants to sign them but wants me to see them perform first.”

“Shit. Sorry I forgot,” he said. “We’ve spent so many nightscelebrating I honestly don’t know what day it is.”

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