Page 44 of Afterburn
Amelia.
She is still with the little girl, now waving her off as the kid runs back to her parents. And somehow, like she feels my stare, she looks right at me.
Our eyes lock for half a beat.
I raise a brow—You good?—and she gets it immediately.
Her smile is soft but sure as she gives me a small nod. Go.
That simple.
“Alright,” I say, feeling that buzz build again, “let’s do it.”
Noah whoops just as the others start circling in—voices layering over each other, talk of drinks and bad bar food.
Tomorrow, it’s on to the next city. But tonight?
We are celebrating. And damn, it feels good.
The bar is buzzing. We are crammed into a corner booth, a half-empty pitcher already on the table, with the sharp scent of fried food cutting through the stale beer air.
Noah is practically vibrating in his seat, still amped like we are about to run another round. He smacks the table with the flat of his hand, sloshing some of his beer.
“I’m just saying”—he grins—“we killed it out there. First show and we didn’t totally screw it up. That’s gotta be a record!”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You nearly took out the food cart during your second run.”
“Details.” He waves me off like it was nothing.
Nathan snorts into his drink, his sharp grin flashing under the low light. “You both were solid. Rookies or not, you kept up.”
And you can tell Nathan is proud of his younger brother.
“Kept up?” Noah huffs, feigning offense. “We carried the damn thing.”
Knox chuckles from his spot at the end of the booth and leans back, the picture of laid-back cool. His beer dangles between two fingers, untouched for the last ten minutes.
“You carried the drama, maybe,” he mutters, but there is no bite to it.
I am mid-sip when I feel the shift before I see it.
“Hey, boys.”
Three women slide up to the table like they own it, all bright smiles and heavy perfume. One of them, blonde with a killer smile, sets her hand on the back of Noah’s chair, fingers trailing lightly over the back of his neck.
“Hell of a show tonight,” she says, her voice dripping with sugar.
Noah’s grin stretches wide. “You saw it?”
“Front row.” Her lashes flutter as she glances around the table. “Figured we’d come say hi since we didn’t get to at the event.”
The brunette next to her zeroes in on me, her smile soft but purposeful. “You’re Ash, right?”
I laugh, a little surprised but not clueless. “That’s me.”
She leans in, enough that her perfume hits me—something floral, too fucking sweet—but my mind drifts somewhere else entirely.
Amelia.
