Deep (Stage Dive 4)

“That girl—”

“Loves your brother. And he loves her. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, and she’s good for him. He’s spending less time alone, talking more, interacting. He’s happy, Martha.”

“Please. What the hell would you know? You’re just the hired help.”

“Don’t be naive. If you were really that stupid we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“He can’t be that hung up on her. I didn’t see a ring on her finger.”

“It’ll happen. They’re just both too thrown by the baby to get around to making shit official yet,” said Sam, the hammering of my heart nearly drowning him out. “You do one thing to cause trouble for them and I will make sure you are never accepted back among the band ever again. Your exclusion will be permanent.”

“They’re my family,” she said in a horrified tone.

“Then start acting like it. Stop taking your brother’s money and stand on your own two feet. Treat Lizzy and all of the women with some respect.”

No reply.

“You’re never getting Dave back. Those days are gone. Accept it. If you don’t want to lose your brother too, you’ll take my advice.”

A moment later the front door slammed shut.

Then the knocking on my bedroom door slammed through my head. Ouches. Eavesdropping was a dangerous pastime.

“You can come out now, Miss Rollins.”

I emerged, sipping the last of my juice, doing my best to appear blasé about all the drama-rama.

Amusement shone in Sam’s eyes. “It’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my nose sky-high.

“Of course you don’t.”

I lowered my nose back to where it belonged before I got a crick in my neck. “You really think I make him happy?”

The black-suited dude smiled. It was the smallest of things. There and gone in an instant. “You’re the psychology student. Think about it. Each of the guys plays a role in the band. Not just an instrument, but a piece of the puzzle that makes them work. Dave’s the sensitive poet, Mal’s the loudmouth clown, and Jimmy’s the brooding bastard. But Ben, he just goes on with the work, doing his thing. He’s the only one I don’t have to flip out about if he goes out in public. No interest in the limelight. The guy just pretty much blends, you know?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“The other guys all bought mansions and shit, but not him. He just kept moving, living in hotels, playing his music.” Sam looked at me down the length of his busted nose. Lord knows how many times it’d been broken. “You’re giving him a place to belong, things to plan for, a life outside of all of this. Idiot didn’t even realize he needed it, but he does. You’re grounding him. No one else has given him that in a long time.”

“You’re kind of a philosopher, Sam.”

“Nuh.” Another millisecond smile. “I just use my eyes. It’s what I’m paid to do.”

I smiled back at him. Mine lasted longer.

“Martha comes back, call me. I don’t think she’ll cause any more trouble, but with her…”

“You got it.”

* * *

Something woke me at around one in the morning. The light from an e-reader, strangely enough.

“Ben?” I yawned, rolling over to hit warm, hard flesh. “Hey. When did you get in?”

“Not long ago.” He pushed my hair out of my face, proceeding to rub my neck. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Want me to go read out in the living room?”

“No.” I mooshed my face against his ribs, breathing in hot male. Divine. Even the soft, soap-scented hairs under his arms worked for me. As for the treasure trail leading from his belly button down into his boxer briefs … heaven. Impossible to keep my fingers away from it.

“You are such a cuddler.” He chuckled.

“Is that a problem?” The thought that my limpetlike attachment to him might be annoying hadn’t crossed my mind.

“Nope. I like having you close. Means I can keep you out of trouble.”

I set my chin on his chest. “And what does that mean?”

“Heard about your showdown with Martha today. Were you really going to brain her with a bottle of twenty-five-year-old Scotch whisky?”

“If she’d come any closer to me and Bean with her hand raised, you betcha. Apparently I have a violent streak these days, which is a worry. But I’m not willing to stand by while me or mine get hurt.”

“Hmm.”

“I did not initiate it, Ben.”

“I know.” The corners of his gorgeous lips turned down. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened, sweetheart. Had no idea she’d react like that. I mean … I knew she’d think the worst. She’s seen enough of the crap people have tried to pull with the band over the years. Just thought I’d be here to control shit.”

I hid my face against his side. There weren’t a great many polite ways to tell someone that their only real family was an asshole of the worst sort.

“Was hoping you and her would be friends,” he added.

Not fire-trucking likely.

“What were you reading?” I asked, taking the safer option.

“Jim gave it to me. Loaded it up with baby books.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.” Ben smiled and raised the e-reader up to his face. “Did you know that contractions are like waves from the deepest sea, rolling pure natural energy through you? You must embrace them and open like a flower to the morning sun so your child can be born.”

“That sounds like some fantastic crap.”

“Yeah, don’t know if this book’s so worthwhile. Might try another.”

“I haven’t done a huge amount of research yet into the actual delivery process. But mostly I’m imagining pain, drugs, and yelling random abuse at anyone nearby.”

A snort. “Also, babies need a shit-ton of stuff,” he went on. “We better get cracking on that. Jim lined up a specialist for him and Lena, who’ll work with them on decorating the nursery and putting in everything they need.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Might be worth thinking about, since we’re still on tour for a while.”

I rubbed my chin against his pec, thinking deep thoughts. “That all sounds great, but we’ve only just decided to try the girlfriend and boyfriend thing. We have no idea if we’ll be living in my apartment or where.”