This is historically the moment when guys too emotionally available end up in the friend zone. We become a shoulder to lean on and nothing more.
You don’t care.
And then I told myself to believe it like it was gospel.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
When I simply stared back at her, she gestured toward the stage. I listened for a moment as our opening band wrapped up and then switched to her other foot. I didn’t want to know what it meant that she chose to keep what happened between Loren and her a mystery to me. Instead, I concentrated on relieving the ache in her feet and ignoring the one in my chest.
“Fucking up is inevitable. No matter how good you get, you’ll always be human. It’s not until you screw up the first time and realize the world didn’t end that you stop worrying about the times that follow. You’re good at what you do, Braxton. You have a gift, and that’s something a few bad shows and bloodthirsty critics can never take away from you.”
“Wait,” she said, making me pause. “I have critics? Already?”
“That’s what you heard?”
“I’m human, remember?” she tossed back at me sweetly.
“So I’m guessing you haven’t been on Twitter lately.”
“No.” She winced and then grimaced. “Do I want to look?”
“No.”
I could see the curiosity burning in her brown eyes and knew the moment my back was turned that she’d find herself in the middle of a shitstorm. We were moments from playing our fourth show, and Braxton had been nothing short of amazing. She hadn’t reached Calvin’s level, but it was becoming clear that she’d surpass him.
It wasn’t enough, though.
She was currently being ripped apart from every corner of the earth, and until I let the cat out of the bag, she’d been oblivious to it. Quiet as it was kept, those critics were why Houston blew his top anytime Braxton was out of his sight.
Because he wanted what was best for those he cared about, even at the expense of himself. Neither of them knew it yet, but that now included Braxton.
The opening band was all smiles when they returned backstage. It was always our cue to get our shit together.
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Braxton murmured as she accepted her guitar from a roadie wearing one of our band tees. It was a new design that included one of the shots from the shoot we did weeks ago. The roadies seemed to prefer that one to the choice with just our names on it, and I didn’t blame them. Braxton wrapped around me sounded too good to pass up.
Loren reappeared through one of the designated entry/exit doors, and I stiffened when I saw that Houston was right behind him. I didn’t trust them alone together, but I’d been too into Braxton to notice anyone else. If they fought without me to break them up, neither would stop until the other was dead, and I’d spend the rest of my life failing to piece the victor back together once the guilt tore them apart.
That’s what happens when two competing powerhouses refuse to give up control—Houston had trouble letting go, and Loren hated being told what to do.
I…just wanted my best friends back.
We used to smile whenever one of us walked into a room. Of course, everyone thought it was weird, but we didn’t care. And until I fucked that up it never mattered who was in our life at the time. All we had were each other.
“You ready to do this?” Houston grilled.
Braxton nodded, knowing he was speaking to her even though he refused to make eye contact. Meanwhile, she avoided Loren’s penetrating gaze at all costs. I knew I wouldn’t stop fixating over what happened between them, just like I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.
Had they slept together?
Loren might behave like a pig, but he didn’t squeal like one, and for once, I wished he was one to kiss and tell.
Houston and Brax started toward the stage. I watched as Houston said something too low for me to hear, and Braxton’s spine straightened as her hands made fists.
Yeah, I’d bet Bound’s net worth that she’d be taking a swing at him before the tour was over.
Making Houston bleed was sort of our unspoken initiation ritual. Calvin had always been too much of a chump to try. God fuck his soul. We’d never actually sat down and discussed why we couldn’t accept him. We never had to. We just lived and bled on the same page and never strayed.
That is until Calvin got his revenge before snorting himself to death.
Good fucking riddance.
Someone handed me drumsticks and handed Loren the bass he called Sharon for no reason at all, and together we made our way to the stage.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Brax, or are you going to wait until it’s awkward for everyone?”