Page 3 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Matt raised his eyebrows. “I see you as a partner in song-writing. All we can do is keep writing great songs.”

“Nah. Not really. You come up with the idea, the framework. I just help fill in the gaps when you can’t, which is rare. Perhaps help refine the tune.”

“It’s more than that. I couldn’t write the songs without you. This song,” he said, lifting the neck of his guitar. “I’d be battling with it all week if you hadn’t just said what you said. You’re as important to this band as I am.”

Luke stood, tossing the wrapper of his sandwich into his lunch bag. “I’m not. But this, Matt. You, me, the band. It’s the only thing I’ve got. I know it’s not perfect. Far from it. I worry all the time about you and Jase blowing it up for the rest of us. Thought I was going to puke when he walked off the stage in Brighton. It bugs the shit out of me how much we still need him, because for all he’s an arsehole, he sings your songs like they came from an old soul within him. Life’s coming in hot right now. No idea what I want to do or where I want to go. I feel like I’m having a midlife crisis at twenty-nine. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided you didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Matt’s stomach sank. “I’m a long way from quitting, mate. You sure you don’t want to stay in? We could talk through shit, grab some take-out, watch some TV.”

“Thanks, but I need to get out of my head, not dive deeper into it. Eat your lunch. I’ll start cutting the next few strips. And thanks,” he called out over his shoulder.

Matt watched his friend’s broad shoulders disappear back inside the house as his mind wandered to Izabel. Who was comfortinghertoday, with Luke so eager to not discuss his dad? The idea that whoever it was wasn’t him, that someone else would wipe away her tears and hold her body close, churned his gut so much he couldn’t face his lunch. He put his guitar away and slammed the van door shut. He couldn’t give up on Luke or detonate the band by going to her, to see if she needed him.

No matter how badly he wanted to.

* * *

Six days later, Izabel Bryson tried to quell the embarrassment she felt as she let herself into her brother Luke’s flat. Five months ago, she’d lived in a spacious two-bedroom apartment in the popular Northern Quarter with her boyfriend, Harry. She’d thought they were happy, so happy she’d been able to sneak out of the homeless shelter she worked at to surprise him and found him fucking one of his financial services clients on their brand-new Natuzzi sofa.

“That’s one way to grow his portfolio,” she muttered as she clambered past the pile of Luke’s drum kit pieces in the hallway.

“Did you say something?” Luke wandered into the living room, navy blue jogging pants sitting low on his hips, his hair standing up in all directions. White flecks of paint covered his hands, a constant reminder of the path he’d taken to make sure she could achievehergoals to go to university.

And not a day went by when she didn’t feel remorse that after all that expense, she wasn’t even working in her field of study.

“Just cursing Harry. Again.” She threw her bags down on the small round table.

“Should have done more than just punch the dick.” Luke grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “Want one?”

Izabel shook her head. “Nah. I’m good. And please. Don’t hit him again. Not that I care about him, but where would the band end up if you go to prison?”

Luke had always been a quick trigger and fast with his fists. Those reflexes were part of why he was such an explosive drummer. Fortunately, he’d never ended up inserioustrouble, usually because Matt and the rest of the band were around to diffuse the situation.

“Sweet of you to care, Sis.”

A blonde who Izabel vaguely recognised appeared from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. By the state of her messy hair and smudged mascara, it was a no-brainer exactly what she’d been up to with Luke. “Any chance of a ride home?”

Izabel looked at Luke and rolled her eyes. “Really?”

Luke shrugged, then looked to the blonde with a smile. “Sorry, babe. Got a gig to get to. But it’s three minutes to the tram stop if you go left out of the apartment building.”

Without another word, she left, and Izabel waited for the door to click shut. “Well, that wasn’t awkward. Where’d you find her?”

“She works the self-checkout at Tesco. Was just finishing her shift when I went to get some laundry detergent, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s just weird to come home and not know who is going to be here.”

“Watch it, Sis. You aren’t my keeper.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. For this ... for crashing your space. Again.”

Luke sighed and rolled his shoulders. “It’s fine, Iz. Just ... I had my own life ...”

“Are you happy, Luke? I see all this.” She gestured to the beer cans stacked up in the recycling bin and toward his room.

“Geez. What is it with you and Matt all of a sudden?” He shrugged. “I’m as happy as anybody else is with their life. Are you happy?”

Matt was concerned too? She wanted to ask but knew Luke wouldn’t discuss either of the Palmer boys with her.

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