Page 23 of One More Song

“Let me just text her real quick,” Millie says.

“Man,” Granger laughs. “Who would have thought a rock star would have stolen a girl out from under me?”

I lift my eyebrows. Did he seriously think he had an actual shot with Ember? But at least he isn’t picking a fight.

A moment later, Millie reads a message on her phone screen. “She says she wants Ash to take her home. That she threw up. Yikes.” Then looking up at me, she twists her lips. “Look, no offense, but are you sure you can handle getting a drunk girl home in one piece?”

The words hit hard. Ember may not hold my past against me - because she doesn’t know anything about it.

But Millie, Granger, and Keith? They know who I am. They’ve read the bad parts of what I’ve done.

They don’t trust me.

“Look, I’m sure you’re totally cool,” Millie says, looking over at her husband and then Granger. “But I’m going to take her home.”

“You’ve had how many shots?” I ask.

She groans. “Fuck, we were gonna Uber home tonight.”

“I’m sober,” I tell her. “And I’m clean. And I won’t touch her, I swear.” I hate that I have to stand here in this dive bar and defend myself, but I do. These people only know the bad things about me, what they’ve read in tabloids.

“Will you please text me when you get her in bed?” Millie asks.

I give her my word, get a bottle of water from the bartender, and then head toward the exit. When I step back outside, the cool night air hits me, clearing my head. I may want to run my hands over Ember’s bare body, but now is not the time.

Right now, I need to get her home, tuck her into bed.

Taking her hand, I help her stand, her heels sinking in the gravel.

“Drink this,” I tell her, handing her the water bottle.

She takes it from meand finishes half the bottle. Then I wrap an arm around her and walk her to my Escalade. I’m not sure how the guys are getting back, but right now all I care about is Ember.

The parking lot is packed now. Looks like the Boneyard is the place everyone in Stanton heads to on Friday nights.

But I don’t want to spend any more time in this place. Too many nights were already wasted at shitty bars during the time I was working toward breaking out as a band. Now, fuck, I don’t know what I want. But with Ember tucked under my arm, I know that right now, I want her.

* * *

It’s the first time I’ve been in her bedroom. It’s not what I expected. At all. I don’t know what I was picturing, but it’s not until I turn my back as she slips off her dress and pulls on her oversized t-shirt, that I realize I actually know very little about her.

There’s a big desk under a large window, covered in colored pencils and charcoal. Sketches cover the table, vivid greens and bright bursts of color coat the pages. Everything she has drawn is of plants. Suddenly I remember her carrying potted succulents into the house one afternoon. She whisked them upstairs, silently, and I never thought of them again. Now I see the greenery sitting on the desk, and her drawing of them beside it.

Ember is an artist.

There’s a small smile on my face as she whispers, “Come tuck me in.”

“You’re so talented,” I tell her as she pulls the covers up over her.

“Shush,” she says. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, sitting next to her on the big bed. It’s big enough for two.

“I mean it,” I say. “I wondered what you were doing all alone in your room so often.”

“What did you suppose I was doing?” she asks, licking her lips and reaching for me.

Her eyes open. She sees me. And there’s a hint of the old fear there.

“My guesses were much dirtier than drawings of houseplants.” I want to kiss her so damn bad. But I promised Millie I wouldn’t touch her. But what if she touches me?

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