Page 99 of Fractured Rhythm

“I have to go to LA later this week. The day after our final show, actually,” he said, and I froze, my fork hovering over my plate.

“What? So soon?” I asked. I sounded like I was pouting, which I was. He’d just come home. Yes, he lived in LA, but I’d started thinking about New York being his home now.

He reached over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing along my neck, and I shuddered.

“Don’t distract me from being sad about this,” I muttered.

“I know. I wish you could come with me. You can, you know,” he said.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure. Josh wants us back in LA so we can record our album.”

“They have studios here.” This time I was definitely pouting.

“I know, but we’re going to hopefully bang this out. I’ve written all the songs we need for the album. Hopefully, we’ll record and I’ll be back in a week or two.”

He took both of my hands in his, scooting closer to me on the bed.

“LA isn’t my home. It never really was. You are my home. You always have been. I was too stupid to realize that years ago, but I’ll never forget that again.”

A sigh slipped through my lips. “I think you just made me swoon,” I said.

He laughed softly. “It’s the truth, Cas. And I’m coming back. I promise.”

“You better.”

“Nothing and no one will ever keep me away from you.”

If I could’ve physically melted into a puddle, I would have.

BASH

“Let’s run throughthe end again,” I said Thursday afternoon.

We’d been in LA for almost a week. We’d been working on “Crazy Ride,” one of the new songs I’d written last month, but the percussion still wasn’t right with Tristan’s bass. We had five songs recorded so far, and I was missing Cassie like crazy. I’d tried to get her to come out, but she kept putting it off, saying she was buried at work and one of the other culinary producers was out on vacation, so she was stuck in New York.

I got it. I really did. I was proud as hell of all she’d accomplished. It’s not like I was going to ask her to drop everything and come out here because I hated sleeping without her, but we’d only had a few days together between the end of the mini-tour and us coming out here, and two of those nights had been concert nights, the last one followed by a large meet and greet. Josh had milked that mini-tour with all he had.

I couldn’t be pissed because that was his job, and my job. But fuck, I wanted to spend all my time with Cassie, not random groupies. Josh was already talking about an extended tour in a few months, and I was both excited and apprehensive, which made me grab the bottle of whiskey next to my feet.

At least Cassie and I had been able to video chat daily. It wasn’t the same, but seeing her calmed me. Hopefully, we’d be out of here in the next few days, but at the rate we were plodding along, it would likely be another week.

“One more time and then I think we’ve got it,” Tristan said.

I didn’t miss his raised brow when I knocked back a shot of whiskey.

“What? It helps me write music and think,” I said.

“No need to get defensive, Wolfie,” Jax said, taking a quick sip from the beer bottle he had next to his mic stand.

“I’m not,” I muttered, putting the empty glass down and not immediately reaching for the bottle. I’d had maybe four shots all day. That was nothing. Okay. Maybe six. Still nothing.

“You didn’t need that much whiskey when we were working on songs in New York and Cassie was around,” Tristan said.

“Don’t start, man,” I bit out. Yeah, I’d been drinking more since we got here. LA had a lot of fucked-up memories and the whiskey helped. But I didn’t need it and it wasn’t like I was stumbling around or anything.

“How about we go through the song again?” Charlie said.

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