Page 45 of Ward Willing
“Zo!”
Scotty comes around the corner and jogs over to us, hugging her and picking her up before spinning her around. I don’t realize I’m scowling at Scotty until he cocks his head.
“You okay, Mr. R?”
I muster every ounce of patience and goodwill that I have. “I’m fine. Come on, Zoe,” I tell her, my voice a bit too gruff and irritable. My fingers wrap around her wrist, and I tug her away from him.
Her eyes widen when she looks up at me, and Scotty’s bandmates stop talking as they observe the three of us.
“I can meet you in there,” she suggests, a tiny wrinkle between her brows.
I lock eyes with Scotty before gazing at Zoe, not looking away as I deliver my next line. “Come with me.”
I don’t mean for it to sound so domineering, but it comes off that way. Perhaps it’s because of what happened in my Jeep. I’m suddenly incapable of watching her flounce around with this jackass. If I have to assert myself, I will.
“Zoe,” I growl.
Scotty huffs a laugh, breaking the tension, but his eyes are hard as they bore into mine.
Fucker.
“It’s fine. We need to get ready anyway. See you after our set.” Leaning down, he gives Zoe a quick forehead kiss before walking away.
She waits until they're gone before spinning to face me. “What the hell was that? You’re not my keeper.”
“Trust me, I know,” I mutter, walking past her to the front of the venue.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks.
I round on her. “If I were your keeper, I sure as hell wouldn’t ever let that jackasstouchyou.”
Before she can respond, I push through the double doors and make my way through the crowd.
Zoe’s right behind me.
As much as I grumbled about the music, being in a dingy bar-like venue brings me back to going to shows with Elias. Everyone here may be wearing T-shirts showing off bands that I can guarantee broke up before they were conceived, but it still makes me want to smile when I think about the shit we used to get up to.
There’s a fog machine and large, standing base speakers in front of the stage. The overheard lights sweep over the crowd, and I’m shocked to see the place near capacity. Who would’ve thought that so many Gen Z’ers would be into early 2000s emo music? I have to be the oldest fucking guy here.
An electric guitar chord cuts through the noise of the crowd, and then everyone screams as Scotty’s band walks onto the stage. I’m pushed forward by people behind me, and instinctively, I grab Zoe’s hand. Another chord makes the crowd go wild. A guy with a mohawk behind her holds both hands up and rushes forward, and before I can think, I pull her in front of me protectively.
Immediately, I know it’s a bad idea. I’m being pushed closer to the stage, which means the front of my body is pressing against Zoe’s backside, andfuckshe fits perfectly against me. My hand is still on her arm, and before she can protest, I squeeze her tighter against the front of my body.
My heart is hammering inside my chest, and I wonder if she can feel it.
Slowly nudging her closer to the stage, I keep her pressed against me as the music begins. Being so close to her makes me dizzy with desire. Every hair on my body stands to attention. Every skin cell tingles. Every neuron in my brain fires.
And then a song I haven’t heard in nearly twenty-two years starts to play, and suddenly it’s too much.
Being here with Elias’s daughter.
WithZoe.
The person I was supposed to take care of.
She’s here, pressed against my chest, and my best friend is dead.
He won’t ever hear this song again, and all I can think about is how good his daughter feels against me?
