Take Me Home (The Heartbreak Brothers 1)

Chapter One

The auditorium resounded with cheers, whistles, and catcalls. The thump of feet on the sticky tiled floor echoed with the sound of blood rushing through Gray Hartson’s ears. He stood for a moment, his guitar hanging from his shoulder, his hands wrapped around the microphone, and let himself take it in.

This was the high. The rush that never lasted. But he’d take it while it did. For as long as it did.

“Sydney, you were awesome. Thank you and good night.” Even with ear monitors in, he couldn’t hear his own voice over the crowd. It didn’t seem like they would be stopping any time soon. He lifted his hand and turned to go, but the noise increased, wrapping him like a blanket as he strolled off the stage.

In the wings, one roadie removed Gray’s ear monitors, the other lifted his guitar over his head to carefully place it on a stand. Gray took a towel from somebody’s hands and wiped the sweat from his face, then grabbed a bottle of water and swallowed the whole thing in one go.

“They’re gonna have to turn the lights on if they want them to go home,” his manager, Marco, said, grinning at Gray as they walked down the hallway toward the dressing rooms. “Three encores. Three! Thank god we rehearsed them all. They’re in love with you out there.” Once upon a time that would have made him feel ten feet tall. Now he was just exhausted.

Gray pushed the dressing room door open, frowning at all the people inside. The guys from Fast Rush, the up-and-coming band that played his opener for the last leg of his world tour, were already on their third – or possibly fourth – drink, surrounded by a group of women who were giggling with them. He recognized the A&R guys from his record label, and a whole other bunch of groupies who were turning the dressing room into a party. He tried not to sigh.

It wasn’t their fault the low was already hitting.

“Oh my god! It’s Gray Hartson!” One of the girls surrounding Fast Rush had noticed him. All of a sudden, the support band was forgotten as the women surged forward.

“Is the other dressing room empty?” Gray asked Marco, his voice low.

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll use that one.”

The second dressing room was used by the local musicians who’d supported the final part of the tour. He turned to leave, but one of the girls grabbed his arm. She slid something into his jeans pocket, and he found himself recoiling at the pressure of her fingers against his hip.

“Something to make you happy,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling. “And my number. Call me.”

Marco closed the door to the first dressing room and rolled his eyes. “I told them not to invite people back. I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay. It’s their first major tour.” Gray shrugged as they walked down the hallway. “Can you make sure somebody stays sober to look after them? And to make sure they get back to the hotel safely?”

Marco nodded. “Of course.”

“If there’s any damage, put it on my bill.”

They’d made it to the second dressing room, and as Gray pushed open the door, Marco walked off to take care of the support band, muttering something about calling for a car. Unlike the first room, this one was almost empty, save for one of Gray’s session guitarists drinking a glass of orange juice.

“You not partying with the others?” Gray asked the older man as he grabbed himself another bottle of water.

“Nope. I’m heading back to the hotel shortly. My bed is calling me.” Paul’s eyes crinkled. “How about you? I didn’t expect to see you back here.”

Touring created strange allies. The only thing Gray had in common with this fifty-something, grizzled Australian was the fact they both played guitar. And yet, for the past two weeks they had hit it off, talking quietly at the back of buses and airplanes while the rest of the entourage shouted and laughed at the front.

“I’m too old to party.”

Paul chuckled. “You’re thirty-one. Just a baby.”

“Tell my muscles that. And my bones.” Gray rotated his head to iron out the kinks in his neck. “Anyway, I’ve got a flight to catch tomorrow. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You’re heading to see your family, right?”

“Yeah.” Gray sat back on the leather sofa and crossed his feet on the coffee table in front of him. “That’s right.”

“Funny place. Hartson’s something…” Paul grinned. “Not many people I know have a whole town named after them.”

“Hartson’s Creek. And it’s not named after me. Probably my great-great-great grandpa or something.” Gray’s brows scrunched together thinking about the small town in Virginia where he’d grown up. The same place he hadn’t been back to since he left more than a decade earlier.

“What is it they used to call you and your brothers?” Paul asked, a grin pulling at his lips. “The Heartbreak Brothers?” He’d overheard one of Gray’s interviews while on the bus and hadn’t let him live his past down since.

“Don’t remind me.” Gray shook his head. He couldn’t remember who’d invented the damn name, but it had stuck to them like superglue. He and his three brothers – Logan, Cam, and Tanner, had rolled their eyes every time they’d heard it while they were growing up. Yeah, they were four strong, attractive teenage boys growing up in a small town, but that stupid nickname always drove them crazy.

Not as crazy as it drove their little sister, Becca, though. She hated hearing her female friends describing her brothers as ‘hot’.

Something was digging into Gray’s thigh. He frowned and pushed his hand into his pocket, finding wh

at the woman had slid in there earlier. Pulling it out, he could see it was a clear plastic baggie, with white powder inside. She’d written her name and number in blue pen on the outside.

“That what I think it is?”

“Yup.” Gray threw it in the trash can and leaned his head back against the wall. There was a time when he would have been partying like crazy after a gig. As his stardom rose up, he’d been like a kid in a candy store for a while, feeding on the fruits of his fame like there was a famine right around the corner.