Page 7 of The Trust
I’m … not.
I just have to put Mac’s safety, his privacy, first.
Mac
“I should get himsomething.”
I settle into the groove, sticks flying, feet peddling.
“Six months is not a valid gift-giving anniversary,” my band manager grumbles over the speaker. He’s standing on the other side of the glass, his scowl firmly in place, and already done with me.
Honestly, I’m not sure how the hell he doesn’t have wrinkles yet.
Must be all thestress relief.
Snickering, I meet Leo’s gaze though I don’t stop playing.
“But I’ve been in love with him for like seven years. That counts.”
He attempts to level me with a brow and reaches for a button on the board spread out in front of him. “I know the perfect gift.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Silence.”
My laugh burst out from my already clenched core.
“Let me say again—” I peddle a deep double baseline, “—seven years. He knew what he was getting with me. So did you, Le.”
Leo’s massive shoulders lift with his inhale, his cheeks puffing up on the exhale.
He fucking hates the nickname.
“Just hit the drums so we can get to the next thing. Please?Please.”
The corners of my lips lift up as I slam out a line that’s not even from the song I’m supposed to be playing.
Leo’s hands fly up and he walks away with a shaking head.
“Broby!” I call out and the bearded guitarist’s face appears on the other side of the glass. “I need ideas.”
He scrubs a finger over his mustache, then hits the button to talk.
“A ring.”
My sticks falter and I fuck up the progression.
“What?” I ask, but it comes out squeaked.
He pauses for a moment, his brown eyes boring into me and I suddenly feel like an animal at the zoo.
Or the weird kid in class that everyone’s staring at.
Like I’m up on stage for the first time, and though the bar is crowded, I’m alone.
On display.
Would Jordan even want that?
