Page 9 of Fractured Rhythm

“Your sex life doesn’t exist.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. “I guess it’s been a while. Not since Malcolm over a year ago.”

“You ended it with Malcolm two years ago,” she said.

The words after Jamie died didn’t need to be said.

I’d dated Malcolm on and off for a few years toward the end of college and after. He was a freelance photographer. Constantly on assignment and our arrangement had worked for a while. Then Jamie died.

I stopped myself from going down that road.

“Yeah. Okay, it’s been longer than I thought. But I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“Aren’t we all, but your toys won’t kiss you into oblivion or cuddle you at night.”

“Since when do you cuddle?”

“Hey, it happens sometimes. Sex can be so good that you pass out and cuddling just happens,” Holly said with a cheeky grin. “When was the last time you had that kind of sex?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered. It’d been with Bash, and it’d been way too long ago.

“Ah, the elusive ex. You never talk about him.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to say.” But there was. It’d been almost a week since I’d walked into that dive bar, and seeing him had made all of it bubble right back to the surface, no matter how hard I tried to bury it back down.

“Uh-huh. One day you’ll confess,” Holly said. “Now get a move on. There are drinks waiting for us.”

“Where are we going tonight? I probably should know better than to blindly follow you.”

“That dive bar that had you so fascinated last week. Or maybe it was the guy on the stage. It was weird. One minute, you couldn’t take your eyes off the stage, and the next, you were bailing. You never did tell me why. And he kind of looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.”

I froze. Shit. I didn’t want to go back to that bar and possibly run into Bash again. But what were the odds of that happening? New York City was massive. He was probably at some trendy bar uptown. I couldn’t count the number of photos I’d seen of him over the years at upscale clubs dancing with random, gorgeous women. He’d always had someone new on his arm.

I could fully admit that it fucking stung to see those images at first. After a while, I’d stopped looking him up online.

A twinge sparked in my chest. No. I had to stop thinking about the possibility of seeing him again. If he’d wanted to look me up, it wouldn’t have been that hard. The label and the other band members knew where I was. In fact, I owed Jax an email response this weekend. We’d kept in touch after everything. I’d needed a way to stay tied to the band, to my brother, but it couldn’t be through Bash.

Not after the funeral. Hell, not after long before the funeral.

“You okay?” Holly said, concern shining in her eyes under the streetlight.

“Umm. Yeah.”

“Are you going to tell me what your deal is with that guy? The handful of times I’ve been at the bar, I’ve never seen him. He might not be a regular, but I could ask Gray about him.”

“Who’s Gray?”

“The bartender. While you were busy staring at Mr. Broody and Dreamy on stage, I got the bartender’s number. His breath was minty fresh and his tongue—oh hell, the things he did with it the following night.” Holly shuddered and closed her eyes.

“Seriously?”

“What? Nothing wrong with a little mutual satisfaction,” Holly said.

I grinned. “Of course not. I’m just pissed you didn’t tell me about it until now.” I vaguely remembered Holly flirting with the bartender, but I’d been so wrapped up with seeing Bash, I’d forgotten to press my friend for more information after that night.

“You bailed on brunch last Sunday, and I swear we’ve barely seen each other all week,” Holy said with a shrug.

Yep. I’d been locked inside myself all weekend, thinking about Jamie and the band. And Bash. I’d had no desire to wallow in my misery over mimosas and French toast, mostly because Holly would’ve grilled the shit out of me. It’d been easier to claim a migraine.

---