Music of the Heart(41)

Rhys shook his head. “Keep on telling yourself that, man. You’re already drowning in her, and the longer she’s on this bus, the deeper you’re going to get in.”

A shiver ran down my spine at Rhys’s words. Was he right? Was seeing Abby while I was screwing Bree some weird double meaning that after a brief twenty-four hours I was starting to like her? My mind flashed back to her holding me while I cried, the tender curves of her body pressed against me, her whispered words of encouragement. No, no, no! This couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it.

“Ugh, I’m going back to the bedroom. Wake me when it’s time to leave.” Before they could protest, I snatched up a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cabinet—desperately hoping to wipe any sexual thoughts, or any thoughts period, of Abby Renard from my mind.



After downing half the bottle of Jack, I must’ve passed out because the next thing I knew AJ was standing over me, shaking my shoulders.

“Wake up, douchebag.”

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Six. Cade’s set is at seven, so we gotta get hustling.”

Glancing over at the digital clock, I realized there would be no time for showering. I’d have to go out smelling like a mixture of booze and Bree. When I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the room spun around me.

“Jesus, Jake. You’re completely plastered,” AJ lamented as he smoothed on some cologne.

“I am not,” I grumbled, staggering to my feet.

When I lurched forward and had to cling to his waist to keep from passing out, he grunted in frustration before reaching out to steady me. “Why do you do this shit to yourself man? Susan would hate to see you like this.”

Jerking myself upright, I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Do not bring up my mother,” I growled.

When I caught a glance at AJ’s face in the darkness, he wore a pitied expression, rather than a pissed one. “I’m sorry, man. You know I love her, and I love you,” he murmured.

My shoulders drooped in defeat. Christ, I so did not need this right now. Trying to deal with my mother was one thing. Throwing in what had happened with Bree and Abby, coupled with AJ getting all emotional on me, was way too much. “Look, I love you too, but I can only handle so much without absolutely losing my fucking mind.”

“Fine. I understand.”

“Fuck, my head is about to explode. Did Frank get back from the store with the Advil?”

“Yeah, he and Abby got back a little while ago.” At the mention of Abby’s name, I tensed as I realized what I had said and done to her earlier with Bree. “Um, did she…you know, with me and Bree?”

AJ quirked his dark brows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course she heard you. All your grunts and groans embarrassed the hell out of her, but she finally freaked out and ran off the bus at your ‘Suck me harder!’ line.”

I cringed. I had a special gift for fucking up around Abby that was for damn sure. She probably hated me now. Who was I kidding? She’d hated me from the moment we met, and last night and this morning was all just a pity party. I shook my head. Wait, why did I care if she hated me or not? No, I could not care about Abby—not in any way that wasn’t sexual.

With AJ’s back turned, I grabbed the bottle of Jack off the nightstand and started chugging. Pinching my eyes shut, I let the harsh alcohol burn a fiery trail down my stomach. My binge was unceremoniously cut off when the bottle was snatched away from me.

“Dammit Jake! You’re already a mess! How the hell are you going to go out tonight like this?”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled before staggering out of the bedroom.

The aroma of tomatoes and spices hit my nose and caused my alcohol-filled stomach to churn. Someone had actually cooked? I peered ahead of me to see Rhys and Brayden relaxing at the table with empty bowls of what must’ve been chili in front of them.

When I met Rhys’s eyes, he shook his head. “Dude, you look like hell.”

“Thanks dickweed. I feel like hell.”

Abby stood with her back to me at the stove. The sound of my voice caused her to whirl around. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she held a spatula in her hand, which was surprising since I didn’t know we had cookware on the bus.

Her blue eyes widened as she took in my appearance, but then she quickly turned away from me. I did a double take because she appeared almost skittish in front of me—something she had never, ever done before.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded.

“Leave me alone!” she spat from her place at the stove.

“Ah, there’s my feisty girl.”