Luke texts back: Be safe. Love you too.
Sal would kick his ass if she knew how much he worried, how much he still feared losing her. It’s his crutch. The loss of Sal.
It’s been over a year since Sal faced down Roy in their kitchen. Another haunting scene to add to Luke’s memories. He still sees Sal on their kitchen floor. Unmoving, crumpled like a broken doll. At times, the image has the power to take him from his music, his thoughts, his sleep. Steal the air from his chest. If he hadn’t made it downstairs in time ...
But he did.
And Sal fought for herself, for their love, and won. She suffered so much, and still, she came up swinging.
The word strong doesn’t even do his wife justice.
Since then, they’ve both been walking their road. Together. Luke’s been making up for lost time. Lost time with the music. Lost time with Sal.
He checks the clock on the wall, tuning out Seth and Jace’s conversation about next month’s gig at Ace’s Saloon.
He needs to get home. Pick up a bottle of wine and some flowers and have a night just him and Sal. No distractions. They’ve both been batshit busy since they got back from tour. He has to make more time for her. Can’t fall back into old patterns. Nothing comes before his wife—especially not the music.
Even his current country music superstar status feels like a dream. It seems so long ago he was a shell of a man; the Brothers Kincaid a shell of a band. For almost a year, after Sal had disappeared in the plane crash, Luke had a death wish. He didn’t want to live if his wife didn’t. But all that changed when Seth found Sal in Florida. His wife was alive, being held by Roy, a madman in a Florida shack, her memory gone. By some miracle she had come back to him. But Luke had his secrets about their past. He wanted to protect Sal while she healed, but in doing so, he only made things worse.
When she found out, learned about the kiss between him and Alabama, the baby she’d miscarried, he was sure he had lost her. By some grace, she forgave him, and they came back stronger than ever.
Hell, sometimes he can’t believe he deserves her. He can’t believe how goddamn lucky he is that she’s his.
“Earth to Luke.”
At the sound of his brother’s low rumble, he looks up and over.
Seth leans against the wall. “Welcome back, man,” he says, waving the scribbled-on list of songs.
Luke blows out a breath, trying to shake off his concern about Sal. “What’d I miss?”
“I was askin’ if we’re really doin’ a collab with Griff Greyson.” Seth crosses his arms, a withering scowl on his usually easy-going face.
“Yeah. We really are.”
Seth sighs. Long and loud.
Jace snickers. “Someone’s got the theatrics down pat.”
Seth scoffs, affronted. “Can you blame me?”
Luke chuckles. Seth’s made no effort to hide his dislike of Griff. The guy rubs Seth the wrong way, and while Luke at times finds him abrasive, he likes Griff despite their rocky start.
Seth shakes his head, not letting it go. “You’re backin’ the wrong horse, Luke. Album’s gonna tank.”
Luke runs a hand down his chin, considering it. “Now I ain’t so sure about that.”
Months ago, Griff tapped Luke to do a duet on his solo album and it’s Luke’s turn to return the favor. But he ain’t doing it to be nice. He’s being honest. Griff’s a damn good singer, he likes the guy, and he’s saying so.
Still, it’s a group effort. Luke surveys his band. Seth glowering. Jace contemplative. “What about you?” he asks his best friend. “You wanna weigh in?”
Jace scratches his jaw. “I think it’s a solid idea.” Seth groans. Jace continues. “He’s an asshole, but he can sing. Why not?” He nods at Luke. “He’d move some records, no doubt.”
Seth tosses Jace a dry look at being outvoted. “Thanks for stayin’ on your bullshit, Jace.”
Jace’s solemn face turns to a smirk. “Anytime.”
The decision made by his band, Luke nods, standing. He grabs up his guitar and gently places it in his case.