Page 15 of One More Song

“Um, just a friend of a friend...” Ember glances at me but looks away quickly. “I’ve never actually met him.” She drags a hand over her dress, her brows furrowed. “Do you think this is too much?”

“Ye look stunning,” Dusky says, still grinning at her. “I hope he’s taking ye somewhere special.”

Again, I’m ready to punch the guy. Not that his words are meant to be flirtatious, but they stir even more jealousy to burn a path up my throat, and I have to swallow it back when I catch Synn watching me with one dark brow raised.

“Thanks.” She smiles at Dusky, a real smile that lights up her face.

And hell, that damn green-eyed emotion bites into me again.

I stand up, a little too abruptly, causing all heads to turn in my direction.

“I need some air,” I mutter, leaving the room and heading toward the back of the house.

It shouldn’t bother me that she has a date. But it does. More than I want to admit.

Especially when I hear the engine of her minivan turn over, and then tires rolling down the gravel driveway.

“What’s eating your ass?” Synn asks a few minutes later, meeting me on the back porch and handing me a cold beer.

“Thought Ember didn’t keep alcohol in the house.” I uncap the bottle and take a long swig. “Another way to make sure no one has any fun in this godforsaken town.”

“You’re in a mood.” He sits down on the step, stretching his legs out.

“Says the guy who hasn’t stopped scowling since we got here.”

He shrugs. “At least something productive has come from it. Those lyrics are good.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and leans back against the railing. “Ten more like those and we’ve got our next album.”

We sit in silence as the sun starts to set over the large oaks and sycamores.

“Almost reminds me of home,” he mutters.

“Yeah right, sure without the sirens wailing and the stench of smog.”

His lip twitches. “Right.”

But I know it’s not the place he means. There’s music here. You can’t hear it, but you can feel it. Synn was the one who taught me that. Certain melodies can’t be heard, only felt.

I close my eyes and let it wrap around me now.

Ember.

Ember.

Ember.

The beat is strong, the tempo slow, yet consistent.

I open my eyes when I hear Synn stand. He’s looking out toward the sunset, his brows drawn down. He’s still pissed at me. And I get it. He’s the closest I have to a brother, and this past year I’d pushed him away.

The truth is, I wouldn’t have any of this if it weren’t for him.

Yeah, I’m the lead singer of Absinthe, but Synn is the backbone, the real leader of the group. We started writing songs together in junior high, and by the time everyone else was headed off to college life, we were touring the east coast with B-rated bands.

We found Landon St. James by accident after a gig. He’d been a dorky little kid back then, following his cousin Zee’s band as a roadie and occasional bassist when their own was too strung out on coke to play.

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