Page 97 of Need You Now

“Fuck,” Seth breathes, half-terrified, half-turned on.

Luke sighs at Lacey’s retreating form. “What’s with her?”

Seth exhales. “Lacey’s just being Lacey.”

Luke opens his mouth to reply but then swears. He leans over the railing, calling down to Sal, who’s making her way up the slick back porch stairs. “Go slow, Sal. I don’t want you slippin’.” He looks at Seth. “I swear, she’s gonna give me a heart attack.”

Seth laughs. “She’s doin’ her job. Keepin’ you on your toes.”

Luke nods, then says, “We playin’ today?”

Seth cracks a grin. “Hell yeah.”

“Cool. I think the girls are headed into town, so we got the place to ourselves till the gig tonight.”

“Beau comin’?”

Luke’s smile fades. “Not yet. Tonight.” He steps close to Seth and claps him on the shoulder. In a low voice, he says, “Listen, the guy gets to me, so don’t let him get to you. One of us needs to not get arrested for murder.”

“Now I can’t wait to meet him,” Seth says wryly. He can’t tell if Luke’s joking or not. “What’s he do, turn into a gremlin after midnight?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Luke says, wary.

“You talkin’ trash, country boy?” Sal’s husky voice hits them both as she makes her way onto the balcony.

Luke’s previously tense expression lightens about a thousand watts. “You caught me, darlin’.”

Sal gives Luke a flirty little smile and Luke’s expression turns hangdog as he follows her into the house, his tongue practically dragging on the floor.

Seth can’t help but laugh. His brother’s a damn lovesick fool. Not like he’s much better himself when it comes to Lacey.

He’s about to join them inside when his phone buzzes. He pulls it from his back pocket. Stares at the screen. An LA number.

Graham, he thinks and picks up. “Hello?”

He listens to the voice on the other end of the line, braces his hand on the back of his neck in disbelief, and then smiles. “How fuckin’ fast can you get here?”

An hour later, Seth finds the studio Luke set up. It’s on the lower floor, sandwiched between an indoor pool and a game room. The room is massive, filled with a piano, a bar, and a long boardroom-like table.

Scanning the instruments, leaned up gently against the wall, Seth feels a surge of excitement. Another one. He’s still high on the phone call from earlier this morning. The pawnshop kid got Lacey’s necklace in. Tonight, the guy’s on a first-class ticket out here; Seth ain’t trusting the mail. He wants to give it to her for Christmas. The pawnshop kid got a look at the guy too, and Seth’s hoping it’s only a matter of time before Lacey’s mugger is caught.

Seth drifts, settling himself at the long table. Notepads, pencils fanned out across it.

Palming a notepad, he slides it his way. It’s instinct to write. The song, a song from what seems like so long ago—the night of Lacey’s party—held vibrating in his head all this damn time.

Like a vow.

Like some sort of confession.

Seth starts scribbling.

It always was one hell of a time,

Till I got a case of them ol’ Tennessee blues

Broken, beat until you stomped across my heart

With the ice-cold tip of your high-heeled shoe

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