“Let go,” Henry told him, and Frog smirked, giving my hand a squeeze. Henry gave the small of my back a quick shove, propelling me away from Frog and breaking the connection.
Next was Cooper, the band’s keyboardist. “Brothers?” I asked, looking between him and Frog. Their colouring was similar, but Cooper’s eyes were dark brown, bordering on black.
“No, but we can be if you’re into that kind of—”
“Cooper!” Henry snapped.
He gave Henry a look of wide-eyed innocence and something pinged in my memory. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.” Cooper ran his gaze over me, his brows drawing together as he cocked his head. “I would definitely remember you.” He glanced quickly at Henry and Frog before stepping in close, his chest almost brushing mine. Leaning in, he lowered his voice as he spoke in my ear. “Uh, was that a line? Because if so, that’s fucking awesome. I live just next door you know, but I can give you my number.”
“Oh,” I murmured, biting the insides of my cheeks so I wouldn’t laugh. He stepped back, meeting my eyes with a knowing grin.
“What did he say?” Henry demanded.
“He uh …” Cooper shook his head at me quickly. The action made me realise Cooper was familiar because he looked like a model I’d worked with a long time ago. Clearing my throat, I replied, “Nothing.”
Frog snorted, tucking a lock of dark hair behind his ear. It looked like he was trying to keep it tied back at the nape of his neck, but it wasn’t quite long enough and kept falling in his face.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cooper.”
“Gracie Bean!” A loud feminine squeal and the sound of stomping heels rapidly climbing the basement stairs cut through the chatter. Moments later, I was smothered by Henry’s best friend and the band’s lead singer. “It’s been years!”
“Evie,” I choked out as she squeezed me hard.
She pulled back, her chocolate brown eyes widening as she ran her fingers over the tattoo covering my arm and shoulder. “What’s this? Never mind. We’ve got time to catch up later.” She turned to Mac. “You remember Mac, don’t you? Our band manager?”
I nodded as Mac took her turn giving me a hug. Mac had beautiful green eyes, blond hair, and a take no prisoner’s attitude.
“I owe you big for this, okay?” she informed me as she took a step back, smoothing her gleaming waves of golden hair. “Whatever you want—shoes, a new gun, my firstborn child, it’s yours. Just promise me you’ll stay until Frog’s well enough to play again.”
I agreed, administering my promise to Mac in triplicate. Apparently that was the right thing to say if the smiles and matching expressions of relief were anything to go by.
Henry took my hand and gave me a quick tour of the duplex. Downstairs was an open-plan kitchen, living, and dining room, along with the laundry and study. After leading me upstairs, I realised it only had one bathroom, which didn’t just surprise me, it reminded me that my brother was a shower hog. Years of Henry’s monopolisation had made the bathroom a hot commodity growing up in our house, but I wasn’t worried. I considered myself a veteran of Henry’s antics. I had that particular issue covered.
Henry raised his brows at my smug grin. “What?”
“Nothing,” I murmured.
With a shrug, he showed me Mac’s room and then his. My wide eyes took in the pink coverlet on his bed. “Henry, you have pink sheets, and they’re not just pink, they’re trimmed in lace. And pretty.”
“I know. They were Quinn’s sheets from when she used to live here. I stole them when she moved out.”
“You stole pink sheets?”
“Yep.” He folded his arms, nodding as we both stared at the girly display. “They’re really soft, and when you lie on the bed and close your eyes, you don’t notice the colour.”
The guest room—the room I would be staying in—was next. It was modern and pretty with a decent size walk-in wardrobe. The bed was a vintage-inspired black metal frame with fluffy white bedding. The matching black bedside tables were also vintage in distressed timber with pretty lamps sitting on top. My suitcase sat by the door and someone had rested my guitar case up against the wall.
“Is this okay?” he asked, opening the blinds to slight views of Bondi Beach.
Walking over to Henry, I slid the window open. Breathing in the fresh scent of salty ocean air, my body felt suddenly lighter. My problems were far away in Melbourne, and Italy if I factored in my boyfriend as a problem—which he wasn’t. A simple phone call telling Dalton we were over shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, and I could take care of that tomorrow. Jemima would reschedule all my current commitments, leaving me with nothing to do but play guitar and plan my new future. All I had to do was make sure Henry was kept out of the loop, which wouldn’t be hard. I didn’t bring anything incriminating with me except for my phone, and there was no reason for him to be snooping through any of the messages on there.