Page 66 of Four More The Merrier

"Since when?" Austen's voice carries an edge.

I slide my guitar into its case, buying time. The tension between them crackles like static electricity.

"Guys, I-" My phone buzzes with a text from Abby. I've never been so grateful for an interruption. "Rain check? I need to take this."

They shuffle away, but not before I catch the looks they exchange. Suspicion. Competition. Something else I can't quite name.

Closing my curtain, I press my face into my pillow. What have I done? The tour bus feels like it's shrinking by the day. Each stolen moment, each shared secret, each kiss - they're all starting to tangle together like Christmas lights stored wrong.

My phone buzzes again. This time it's Beau: "Made your favorite coffee."

I groan into my pillow. This is terrible. Each man has shown me a side of himself that feels real, genuine. But have they told each other? Do they swap stories over beers when I'm not around?

The thought makes my stomach churn. I need to figure this out before someone gets hurt - before I hurt all of them.

I'm adjusting my in-ear monitor when Monica, taps my shoulder. "Someone's here to see you, Quinn."

"Me?" I turn, and there's Derek, looking exactly like he did back at the coffee shop - worn denim jacket, guitar case slung over his shoulder, and that crooked smile.

"Surprise!" He spreads his arms wide.

"Derek!" I launch myself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. "How did you- When did you-?"

"Your plants are doing great, by the way." He laughs, squeezing me back. "Thought I'd deliver an update in person."

"You didn't tell me you were coming!"

"Would've ruined the surprise, wouldn't it?"

Behind me, someone clears their throat. I turn to find all four guys watching us, their expressions ranging from guarded to downright hostile.

"Oh! Let me introduce you-" I start, but Austen cuts me off.

"Sound check in five." He runs a hand through his hair, not meeting my eyes.

Beau, usually so friendly, just nods curtly and follows Austen. Jarron doesn't even acknowledge us, while Lyle at least manages a tight smile before trailing after them.

"Tough crowd," Derek whispers.

"They're not usually like this." I frown, watching their retreating backs. "They're actually really-"

"Quinn!" Jarron's voice echoes from the stage. "Today would be nice!"

"Sorry," I tell Derek. "I have to-"

"Go, go. I'll be right here." He settles into a chair near the sound booth. "Show me what Nashville's done with my favorite barista."

I try to focus during sound check, but I can feel the tension radiating from the guys. Beau won't look at me, Austen keeps missing his harmony cues, and even Lyle seems off-rhythm. Only Jarron maintains his usual precision, though his jaw is clenched so tight I worry he might crack a tooth.

What the hell is their problem? Derek's just an old friend, nothing more. But watching them now, you'd think I'd invited their arch-nemesis to crash our show. Maybe they're just bred to be jerks to new comers.

After the show, I lead Derek back to the tour bus, my stomach in knots. The moment we step inside, the temperature seems to drop twenty degrees.

"Nice setup," Derek says, looking around the luxurious interior.

"So, Derek," Austen drawls from his spot on the couch. "A busker who plays in front of coffee shops, huh? Must be rough playing for tips."

I shoot him a glare. "Derek's actually really talented-"

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