Page 3 of How Good It Was (Excess All Areas 3)

“Ignore him,” Cerys said. “They’ve got a handful of days to finish the album, and Jimmy came along to make sure nobody stays too late.”

“Willow, guys, let’s get those photos.” Darrin gestured to a spot over by the boxes that transported all the studio’s instruments.

He watched Willow follow her dad.

“Bet you a hundred quid you can’t tap that before breakfast tomorrow,” Alex whispered, and Luke laughed.

“Bet you two hundred it’s before midnight.” He didn’t have two hundred quid to spare. His credit card wheezed under the weight of his debt. And the loans he’d taken out to make sure his sister didn’t struggle through college, after their dad died and their mum abandoned Iz to his care, demanded a hefty sum just to meet the minimum.

But as Willow looked over her shoulder at him, he knew it was easy money.

“You’re on.” Alex slapped him on the shoulder.

As she carried on walking, he noticed a mottled red blotch on her arm. Anger began to simmer. Concerned, he hurried over to her.

“Are you okay, flower? Because your dad gripped you pretty hard there.”

Willow rubbed her arm self-consciously. “No. It’s fine. Honestly. I mean, I was being rude not coming straight over to see you guys, but sometimes you just have to take video when you can. And that song is trending right now, so I had to capture it right away. I think he caught me harder than I expected because I was spinning.”

“You sure? Because I’ll kick his arse for you.”

Willow looked up at him. “You’d do that?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve hit someone for a lot less. Why not? You shouldn’t have a red blotch on your skin. If anyone did that to my sister, they’d be having trouble breathing right now.”

“That seems so ... violent.”

“Sometimes bad things happen to bad people.”

She stopped in position. “And the people who do the bad things to bad people—are they bad or good?”

Luke ran his tongue along his lower lip. “You tell me, Will.”

With pursed lips that looked cute enough to nibble on, she considered his question. “I don’t know you well enough to answer that.”

He glanced over to where her father was busy talking to Matt, then looped his finger and thumb loosely around her wrist. “Well, I suggest we change that. You’re staying for the show, right? You can stand with Cerys and watch.”

“I’d love that.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three in March, next month.”

Phew. Not as young as he’d thought. “You feel like getting out of here afterwards?” he asked, his voice rough.

Willow bit down on her lower lip. “I’d like that.”

Luke grinned. “Be ready to go. I’m walking straight off that stage and we’re leaving before anyone has the chance to realise we’re gone.”

“Luke,” Matt yelled. “Get your ass over here for the photograph so we can get onstage.”

“You have a deal,” Willow said before hurrying to the rest of the group.

“Do I ever,” he muttered.

And it remained on his mind. From the first beat of his sticks in the air onstage, with the audience screaming, and her eyes on him. To a guitar battle between Ben, Matt, and Jase, when he slipped his phone out of his back pocket and took a photograph of Willow dancing in the wings as she watched the three of them.

Anticipation thrummed through him. Sure, she was a little young for his twenty-nine, but what happened in Detroit stayed in Detroit.

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