Everyone but me.
Damn him.
Holt grins like the cat that caught the canary.
“His name is Coy Kelvin Mason,” he says. “He goes by Kelvin McCoy, which is also the name of the band—which is weird to me, but I’m not in charge.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Holt’s body rumbles beside me.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “Why did you let me go on and on about him?”
“It was funny.”
“It’s totally not funny at all,” I say with a laugh.
He lifts my chin with his finger, and I open my eyes. He’s peering into my face with a sweet sincerity that makes my stomach flip-flop.
“Maybe I should’ve told you,” he says softly. “But it was adorable that you didn’t know. Besides, if I told you, I wouldn’t have anything to tease you about.”
I study him. His eyes are sweet and concerned yet have the hint of trouble that I love so much. His thumb brushes over my knuckles.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Just know that I might’ve chosen my words differently had I known he was your brother.”
“I know. Which is why I didn’t tell you. I wanted the truth.”
I grin. “I would’ve given you the truth either way. I just might’ve selected different details to share.”
He turns his body so that he’s only facing me. “Is that so?”
I nod. “I might’ve told you that his voice is sweet like honey and puts me in the mood to …” I lean closer. “Do things to you when we’re not surrounded by his adoring fans.”
Holt’s eyes sparkle. “Keep it up, sweetheart, and you’ll miss the show.”
“Only if you can put on a better one.”
His lips part to say something when Oliver elbows him in the side.
“Don’t worry about calling Wade—” Oliver says.
“Shit.” Holt whirls around to face his brothers. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“Oliver called me anyway, and we worked it out,” Wade says. “I have a solution. Never fear …”
His voice drifts off as the lights fade, and music begins to play.
The crowd roars to life. The giant black screen behind the stage turns on, and the words Kelvin McCoy flash in green.
I settle back in my seat, but not before Holt leans over the armrest. With his mouth hovering over the shell of my ear, he whispers, “I will give you a show tonight that you won’t forget.”
My skin erupts in goose bumps as I look at him. His eyes are hooded. His lips damp. His cologne chooses this moment to trickle through the air and attack my senses.
“Promise?” I ask.
It’s all I can say. One word is my max.
Holt’s grin turns devilish before the lights fade to black, and Kelvin McCoy comes on stage. Anything either of us would say would be deadened by the noise filling Barridge Stadium.
Instead of talking, I rest my shoulder against Holt’s. He rests our locked hands on my thigh. And as I listen to the opening lines of Kelvin McCoy’s hit song, “Backroads,” I wonder if maybe it’s not wrong to have a little hope that things might work out.
Crazier things have happened in life.
Right?
Twenty-Five
Holt
The sound of the shower is soothing.
I sit on the edge of my bed, a towel wrapped around my waist, and listen to water cascade off Blaire’s body in the other room.
I’m so tired.
The concert was entertaining. Coy put on a hell of a show. It was fun being in the middle of the chaos and watching Mom cheer on her son as he danced and sang his way across the stage. It was more exciting to sit next to Blaire.
She watched every piece of the performance with rapt attention. A smile sat permanently on her face. She cheered, sang along to a few of the songs, and looked the part of a happy concert-goer. And then, after the show, we raced back home.
My heartbeat picks up as I remember the sound of her back hitting the foyer wall. The way she moaned into my mouth as I pushed into her tight body. The feeling of her smile against my neck before I put her feet back on the floor.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Tonight was too much—too much of everything.
Mom and Blaire had a conversation I couldn’t follow about dishes. Apparently, Blaire’s grandmother collects the same type as my mother. Wade fell into a conversation with my date about bridges. She talked whiskey with Boone and chatted away with Larissa about country music all the way back to the car.
It was surreal—not because Blaire could hold an effortless conversation with everyone in my family, but because it seemed right.
She fit in. She blended right in with the familial dynamics, even going as far as to silence Boone with a look when he started to get out of hand with a story about a woman named Gia. She acted the part of a member of the Mason family, and I liked it.