Page 185 of Between Never and Forever
I laugh and nod my head, then pull a pen out of the drawer next to me.
“Good point, Boss.”
I sign the waiver and hand it to Sharon just as there’s a knock at the front door. Brynn throws her arms around my waist, and I pull her into a tight hug.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Helmet, knee pads, and wrist guards,” I say as she steps back, and she rolls her eyes. I raise my brows and hit her with a pointed look.
“Helmet, knee pads, and wrist guards,” she repeats with a nod.
“Have fun, kiddo.”
Brynn smiles.
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, Boss.”
I watch as Brynn, Cameron, Red, and Sharon walk out the front door at the same time Jonah, Hammond, and Torren come in. They all exchange greetings, and I don’t miss the way Red’s hand moves to the middle of Sharon’s back as they leave. I quirk a brow and take a sip of my coffee.
Interesting.
They have been spending more time together lately. Is it a protective habit, or more?
I lean on the counter silently as Savannah’s band members sprawl themselves out on the furniture, and Hammond, in a fucking bespoke suit at nine in the morning on a Sunday, stands in the middle of the living room scrolling through his phone.
This “meeting” is to discuss plans for the next The Hometown Heartless album. The one Sav’s already started writing for. When I asked her if something like this should be discussed more formally, perhaps in an office or a studio boardroom, she barked out a laugh and patted me on the head like I was a naïve child.
I’m not naïve, though. I just want this to work out. I want this new era with The Hometown Heartless to be perfect for Savannah. She needs it, and she fucking deserves it. I don’t want anything or anyone to take away her happiness ever again.
I scan the people sitting in my living room.
My gaze stops on the petite, pink-haired drummer first.
I’ve come to know Mabel quite well in the months since the fire. She’s pretty much Savannah’s only friend, and while I know there was a rift between them for a while, the two seem just as close as they did all those years ago in Miami. Mabel was at the hospital the moment she heard about the fire, and she’s been here almost every day since we moved back. Mabel, I’m not worried about.
But Torren...
I let my eyes drift over Torren King, and from the way his body tenses, I know he can feel my gaze.Good. Broody fucking bastard. He thinks I can’t see the way he looks at Sav from the corner of his eye. The way he’s always watching her. But like recognizes like, and as someone who knows exactly what it feels like to be captivated by Savannah’s chaos, I can spot it from miles away. And Torren? He can deny it all he wants, but he’s not fooling me. Fucker is still hung up on my girl. It almost makes me feel bad for him. Almost.
I trust Savannah when she says nothing will ever happen there again.
Hell, I even trust Torren not to try and win her back.
What worries me, though, is whether he’ll actually be able to move on, or if he’s going to end up fucking everything up for Sav. I wouldn’t put it past him to brood himself into irreparable heartbreak and then leave the band mid-tour.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Torren turns his head toward me and locks his gaze with mine. I bring my mug to my mouth and take another drink of coffee without breaking eye contact. His jaw pops and his eyes narrow, but neither of us look away. It’s not until Hammond says Torren’s name that the connection is cut, and he has to bring his attention back to the meeting.
Briefly, I let Hammond’s voice filter into my head—something about possible album titles, vibes, visions—before I tune him back out and look to Jonah.
Jonah is an enigma, and therefore, the most dangerous wild card.
He’s absolutely nothing like the guy I met in Miami. The Jonah I met in Miami was responsible and charismatic. Friendly. Witty. Caring.
But this Jonah? I don’t know.
I know he usually only speaks when spoken to, he rarely smiles, and I’ve never heard him laugh. I know the only time I see him show an emotion other than frustration or apathy is when he’s playing music.
