Page 19 of Broken Bridges

“Cool.” Slip shoved Cole toward the door. “Tia will keep you company. Won’t you, Tee?”

“Um...yeah...sure.” But what if I wanted to go for a drive? I didn’t. But that was beside the point.

We left Flint in the music room, talking to Sutton about gifts for his parents, and we headed down the hallway. Slip and Cole took off. The loud rumble of Slip’s Camaro reverberated throughout the house as he sped out of the driveway. As I followed Lewis into the kitchen, I pulled my sweater over my hands, and tucked my fingers underneath my armpits to keep them warm. “Your changes to the song were awesome.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed a coffee cup out of the cupboard near the rangehood. He’d been staying here at Flint’s for the past couple of days and seemed to know his way around the place. “You want one?”

“No, I’m good.” I leaned against the sink to take the weight off my leg. “Have you written a lot of music?”

He placed the cup underneath the coffee machine and pressed the button. It whirred to life, grinding the coffee beans, then seconds later, thick black liquid trickled out of the spouts into the cup. “Yeah, I have. I’ve created a ton of songs, riffs and cool beats. The majority have been just for fun.”

“I like what I heard today. Have the guys listened to any of your songs?”

“No.” He rested his hip against the counter, waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. “Only my instrumental demos I posted online for the audition, and I’ve played them a few riffs and loops over the past few days as we’ve works on their tracks.”

“Make sure they hear some of them.”

“I will...one day. I know my place for this album. I have milestones to reach. I don’t want to push the boundaries. I’m happy to just be involved.”

“There is no harm in asking them to listen to a few tracks. They’d be cool with it. Whether they take anything onboard is up to them.”

“I’m beyond stoked they’re listening to my ideas. That’s a big step up from my last band.” I didn’t miss the snark in his tone. Clearly, The Saylors hadn’t ended on good terms. He gave me a sideways glance. “I’m impressed you know your way around the channel mixer and audio software.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” I grabbed a glass of water and took a mouthful.

“No...no, you’re more than that.” His gaze raked over me, sending shivers down my spine. “You are intriguing and full of surprises. I like that.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Good. I like you too. I mean...your playing. Your music. In the band.” Shit. Stop mumbling.

“Got it.” He chuckled, grabbing the milk out of the fridge.

I wiped my palms on my leggings. I wasn’t sure being in the same space as Lewis was a good thing. “Do you have plans for Christmas? Do you spend it with family?”

“Um.” He poured milk into the frother and turned it on. “No. They’re in Ohio.” His tone took on a cold, lifeless edge. “I haven’t spent Christmas, nor many other occasions with them, since I was sixteen.”

“Why’s that?” Shit. Had I been too abrupt again? Yep.

He puffed air through his nose. “I’m the black sheep of the family. My parents never approved of my lifestyle.”

“For being gay or a musician?”

Gray clouds drifted across his eyes, but he was quick to blink them away. “Both.”

I hugged my glass against my chest and softened my tone. “That must be hard.” I could relate on the job front. My parents had wanted Cole and me to have corporate careers, not pursue the arts. They were workaholics and traveled a lot. We hadn’t spent any of the holidays with them since I was fourteen. It was for the best—it prevented World War III.

Lewis tipped the milk into his coffee and stirred it in. “It was at first, but living in Brooklyn with my pop was awesome. He was this crazy old man who ran a bowling alley and the local community bridge club. Everyone loved him. But he died three months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Losing someone sucks. Phil was like a brother to me.” No...he was so much more than that. He was my everything. Fuck! “We were the same age. We always tried to outdo each other at everything and always caused mischief. We raised havoc across Pasadena.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He opened the pantry door and stepped inside the long skinny aisle that ran down the center of the packed shelves. I’d never seen that much food in Flint’s pantry ever. Must be Sutton’s influence.

Lewis’s hand moved in time with his gaze as he scanned up and down the shelves. A groove pinched between his brows. “Were you two an item?”

The hole in my chest that had remained since losing Phil lurched. Nausea flooded my gut. Were some secrets best left buried? Literally? “Have the guys told you about the dibs rule?”

Intrigue flashed in his eyes. “Dibs rule? What’s that?”

What was the dibs rule? The cause of too many fucked up problems and even more dangerous secrets.

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