Page 70 of Fractured Rhythm

Bash:You know she understands, right?

Cassie:Yeah. It’s just hard.

“Looks like I’m going on tour with Steelwolf.”

“Fuck yeah, you are,” Holly said, raising her wineglass in salute.

I needed that ice cream stat. Did I make the right decision?

BASH

“You ready?” Iasked two weeks later as I pulled Cassie’s suitcase down the hall. “Man, what is in this thing? Cookbooks?”

“Very funny. I wanted options,” she said, grabbing a smaller bag.

“Babe, you’re not even going to be gone a week,” I said.

“Never question a woman’s packing, Bash,” she admonished.

But I was so fucking happy that she was joining us. Even if it wasn’t for the full tour, she was coming home with us and for two additional shows upstate before we came back to the city in a week.

Josh had organized the tour so fast it made my head spin. The label was panting for new material and loved what they’d heard so far, but I was apprehensive as hell. We were going back to playing in front of the people who were with us in the beginning. Well, it wouldn’t be the same crowd, since Connors was a college bar and hopefully, the people that watched our first shows over seven years ago would’ve graduated by now, but it was a lot of pressure.

We hadn’t performed together in public in two years. Sure, we sounded solid in the studio, but live and on stage was a different animal. Connors was small compared to the venues we’d packed a few years ago, but it felt right going back to where we started.

“You okay?” Cassie asked, her hand on my back, her fingers moving down my spine, attempting to soothe me.

“Yeah. It’s just—”

“Connors. I get it. It’ll be weird, but this was the best place to start. I haven’t seen Jim in ages. You think he’ll card me?”

I laughed. “You were underage when we snuck you in all those years ago. Who, under the age of thirty, orders a dry Manhattan? You were asking to get carded. I don’t think dry Manhattans are an actual thing.”

“Shut up. I was trying to sound like I was over twenty-one. It didn’t help that Jamie cut me off and said, ‘She’ll have a Shirley Temple in a sippy cup,’” she said in her best imitation of her brother.

Her attempt sounded about as bad as the drink she’d tried to order during one of our first shows. She’d just turned sixteen and had snuck into the bar behind us. Jamie had been the first to notice her at the bar arguing about her Manhattan and misplaced license.

She’s also looked hot as hell that night standing at the edge of the stage singing along as Jax stalked across it. She’d kissed me for the first time after we got offstage. She shocked the hell out of me, and though I’d berated myself later that night for kissing her back, it didn’t stop me from kissing her every chance we got after that night. I’d been a goner long before that had happened.

Hell, I still was.

“Bash?” she asked, drawing me back to the present.

I turned to face her, snaking my arm around her waist and drawing her close. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about that night. It was our first kiss.”

She tilted her head up. “I know. I still can’t believe I finally kissed you that night. I’d been dreaming about it for years.” Her cheeks tinted pink, and I leaned down.

“Me too,” I said before I sealed my lips to hers.

Her hands traveled up my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt as she held me close and pressed her body against mine.

I slanted my head and absorbed her moan. My tongue darted out, tracing the seam of her lips, and she parted them with a soft gasp that went straight to my cock.

Fucking hell, we didn’t have time for this, but I couldn’t stop as I shifted my hips against her, wishing I could strip her bare.

“Bash, we really have to go,” she whispered, breaking the kiss.

“Who’s going to know if we show up a little late?”

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