Page 34 of Broken Bridges

Giggling, I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

He swung his leg over the horse and sat sidesaddle. A fresh, gorgeous smile lit his face. “Scaring a kid wasn’t part of the plan. I just wanted you to have some fun and see you smile.” His voice took on a somber tone. “You don’t do that often enough.”

I rested my head against my pony’s shiny pole. “I haven’t had much to smile about lately.”

“Yes you have. You’ve moved home to LA, you’re staying with your brother, you hang out with a pretty cool band every day, you’ve gone to Big Bear and now you’re in New York. Focus on the good things in your life.” He pointed toward my leg. “Don’t let your injury stop you from living, no matter how hard some days might be. You may not be able to jump off buildings, run marathons, or snowboard anymore, but look at you?” Flicking his hand at me, he grinned. “You’re riding a fucking carousel horse. That’s wicked, right? Find the things you can do, and love doing, and work your way up from there.”

My eyes stung, but my stomach fluttered. Stupid stomach. “This isn’t the kind of riding I like to normally do. But you made it entertaining.” I’d sooner mount him at any time of the day.

“Good.” He flicked his scarf over his shoulder and sat straight. “Ride or die, Tia. Ride or die.”

“Yeah. Thank you. I needed this.” Simple things could be fun...and they didn’t hurt my leg. I had to remember that.

At the end of the ride, Lewis placed his hands on my hips and lifted me off the horse. He held onto me until I was steady on my feet. But as I looked up to thank him, his warm breath hit my face. At only a couple of inches taller than me, his lips lingered too close to mine. Way. Too. Close. My heart rate doubled.

That zing still hovered between us.

That fire still burned.

Nope...kill it.

With all my might, I stepped away and hobbled toward the street.

Lewis kept a good foot of distance between us, our arms not touching like they’d done before. In silence, we caught a taxi over to Manhattan. He headed to the studio; I went back to the apartment and kept telling myself we were just friends.

We’re friends. We’re friends. JUST friends.

That had become my new mantra.

Chapter 10

TIA

With only two days left in New York before Sutton and I had to fly home for our show’s pre-production meet-and-greet, the guys invited us to watch them play a few live tracks for Ashlem’s marketing team. Ashlem wanted to see them in action rather than playing at the small recording studio, so Everhide had offered them their rehearsal studio in Brooklyn.

Sutton and I picked up a box of donuts, sweet pastries, and coffees for the band and headed across the river. I’d seen the guys play together, but them putting on a small show, even if it was for a tiny group, excited me. They were so good; I couldn’t wait to see them pump out a few of their new songs.

“So, how do you think Lewis is going?” Sutton asked as we clambered out of the town car in front of the building. “Do you think he’s a good fit for the band?”

I hooked my purse over my shoulder while balancing the tray of coffees in my other hand. “It’s up to the guys—not me.”

“Yeah. But you knew Phil. You know the guys better than anyone.” Sutton clutched the goods from the bakery against her chest as she opened the heavy front door. We headed inside out of the chill and up the stairs. From the street, the place looked like a rundown old warehouse, but inside, the décor was urban chic. Black walls. Chrome lights. Polished timber floors...and soundproofing panels.

Before entering the rehearsal studio, Sutton stopped and turned toward me. “Do you think Lewis is the right choice?”

I took a deep breath. Taking out my feelings for Lewis, and the loss of Phil, did he blend into the band? Match their personality and style?

Yes. “He doesn’t have an ego the size of the sun like Phil had. He’s got this calm-yet-nervous edge, which I’m sure comes from being new. He’s anxious about impressing the guys. He wants to show off his talent and skills to pass their milestones but not overstep their creative control on this album or come across as a dick. It’s a fine line. But he lights up when he has a bass in his hand, and they connect when playing. That’s cool. So, yes, I think he’s great.”

“Flint has his moments.” Sutton sighed, slumping her shoulders. “More good than bad. He’s intrigued by Lewis’s talent, but it’s been hard letting someone new into their circle. He misses Phil every day.”

So do I. “But I’m glad they’re moving on as a band. I’d hate them to not play anymore.”

“Me too.” Sutton heaved the door open, and we entered the music room.

“Whoa.” I scanned the room. Everhide’s rehearsal room was the size of two tennis courts, decked out with arrays of speakers, amps, mounted stage lights, and more equipment than a music shop. Five people dressed in a mix of expensive suits, leather jackets, and fancy button-downs stood with Blake and April by the far windows. They were no doubt Ashlem’s marketing team. Everhide gathered near the mixers on the other side of the room, talking to Gena, The Flintlocks’ sound and lighting engineer. Four security guards sat on equipment trunks in the far corner.

Our guys stood together, prepping their instruments and checking cables, but Lewis paced in front of the drums, mumbling under his breath. Was he running through lyrics? I headed toward them, eyeing the overhead trellises, rigging, and lighting. I stopped beside Cole. “Impressive setup for just running through a couple songs.”

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