Page 4 of Captivating

“Fine. But just you,” I warn him. “I mean it, Noah.”

“I hear ya. Just me . . .”

An hour later, I’m changed and sitting on my brand-new oversized, overstuffed, pale-blue couch that I absolutely love and may never leave. Noah is strumming his favorite acoustic guitar,Baby, next to me, while I work on the song I’ve had stuck in my head for the past few weeks. I can’t seem to get it on paper no matter how hard I try.

The melody is there, but the lyrics... they’re just not.

Another city. Another lonely night.

Well, that lyric sucks.

I scribble a line through the shitty lyric, trying to figure out exactly when I started to write whiney music. It’s never been my vibe, and I’m not sure why it keeps coming out that way now.

According to my mom, I’ve been writing songs since before I learned to write a sentence. The piano came before that, and the guitar came after. It’s always been my way to process the world. My reprieve. But right now, it’s my biggest stressor because the words aren’t coming like they used to. Nothing sounds right, and with each ugly scratch in my notebook, I worry more and more that I’ve lostit.

That thing that makes my songs special.

That magic that filters through my words.

Like I’ve lost a piece of myself.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

What the— I drop my pen as the booming knock filters in from the front of the house and scares the hell out of me. My eyes fly to Noah’s as he strums his guitar like the big bad wolf doesn’t sound like he’s trying to knock down our door.

“Open up before your bodyguard finds out who the badder guy really is, Tink.”

What the fuck?There are so many things wrong with that sentence.

“Maddox?” I ask, surprised, and Noah nods, still strumming his guitar. Well, at least until the banging starts again.

“Hold your fucking horses, Madman.”

“What happened to just us?” Sarcasm drips from my words while his long legs eat up the room as I follow behind. “Did you give him the gate code?”

My brother shakes his head, and I brace for Maddox Beneventi when the door swings open, but my breath gets caught in my throat because Maddox isn’t alone.

“Jamie,” I smile and throw my arms around him in a giant hug that has me lifted off the floor.

He rests me back on the black-and-white checkered tile and rests his chin on my head. “Missed you, Tink.”

“I thought we were all getting together this weekend?” I ask as Maddox Beneventi, Maverick Beneventi, and the man who still haunts my dreams, Killian St. James, shuffle into my home, already talking animatedly about something with my brother.

Maverick tosses a wicked smile Jamie’s way. “Yeah well, Rosie is spending the night at my parents’ house this weekend. Some of us still have football games to play.”

“Damn, man,” Jamie growls. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

Jamie’s team might be out of the playoffs, but Maverick plays for my Uncle Declan, and the Philadelphia Kings only have to win one more game to get to the Superbowl this year.

“Facts are facts, man. We’ve got a game Sunday. I can’t catch up this weekend.”

“How is my favorite rose?” I ask, as I kiss Mav’s cheek.

His smile is huge. “She’s good and she can’t wait to see you, Aunt Tink.”

We follow Noah into my kitchen where he tosses the guys each a bottle of beer from the freshly stocked fridge, and these giant men all spread out. “Tonight’s my night off,so...what are we going to do with it?”

I drag my eyes over the enormous men. The quiet one so much bigger than the others, but then again, Killian always was. Bigger. Better looking. Wilder. He’s got more ink peeking outfrom under his shirt than he used to, but it looks good on him. Maybe a little too good.

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