Aaron sniffed the air. “Smells like oatmeal raisin. My favorite.”
Brody chuckled. “I thought chocolate chip was your favorite.”
“Hey, I'm allowed to have more than one favorite cookie.” Aaron chuckled as he walked over to greet his wife, dropping a kiss on the top of her braided hair.
Brody nodded, feeling grateful for the lightness of the moment. They had a lot of work ahead of them, but for now, he was content to enjoy the simple pleasure of warm cookies and good company.
Chapter Two
GeorgiaPatterson’ssoftsopranowas near a whisper as the song neared its ending notes.
Under the surface, I can’t breathe, but I reach for you. I still reach for you.
Diego strummed his guitar, his attention focused on how the song sounded and how Georgia’s intonations lilted the second word in each phrase. When she softly breathed the final words, he broke out into a grin.
One glance at Troy Crawford’s bright smile, and Diego knew exactly what his best friend and leader of Steel Horse was thinking. “It’s good, yeah?”
“Good? It’s fucking great, D. And Georgia, God, that was beautiful.”
Georgia grinned at Troy’s words, her freckled face flushing bright pink. “Thanks, Troy.”
Now that the song was over, Troy stood and bounced all around the room in his house that they used as a practice space. His hands flew around as he walked. “I know I had been worried about shifting our sound to something slower and more maudlin like that but fuck me if that wasn’t one of the best songs we’ve ever played.” Troy shot another grin at Diego. “You’re getting better at this. Almost had me crying, you bastard.”
Diego grinned to himself as he set his guitar down on a metal stand near his stool. “Just gotta try harder next time, I guess.”
Troy snickered. “I encourage you in this endeavor. Now, does anyone want a drink before they head out? I just refilled the beer fridge.”
Javier Menendez, their drummer, picked up his phone and checked a few text messages. “Wish I could, but Linda says the baby’s been crying all day, and she needs a break, so I’m heading out. Georgie, you want a ride home?” he asked, grabbing his jacket.
Georgia accepted the offer, and they hugged and said goodbye to Troy and Diego before leaving the practice space. She paused as they reached the front door. “Same time next week?”
“Yep! We’ll see you then.” Troy closed the door behind her, then groaned as he shook out his fingers. “But for real, D, that song—it’s as good as you’d hear anyone sing.” He walked toward his kitchen and opened his refrigerator, then pulled out a beer and an orange soda. “You get what I’m talking about, right? The way we played tonight? We’re ready for the next level.”
Diego’s stomach tightened whenever Troy brought this up. “You mean Nashville?”
“Fuck yeah, I mean Nashville.” Troy’s blue eyes lit up every time they talked about ‘making the move’ and relocating their lives. “Trevor Montana said he can get us meetings right now with the people who’re making music for Billie and Taylor. We should at least meet with them, right?” Troy walked to the living room and fell into his favorite leather recliner. “Maybe it won’t work out, but what have we been doing all of this for if we don’t take a shot at the next level?”
Diego sat down on the sofa and pulled a throw pillow on top of his lap. He sipped his soft drink and absently pulled a loose thread on the pillow. “I never got into this for fame and fortune, Troy. I just liked making music.”
Troy’s shoulders slumped and his eyes rolled back. “It’s been five years now, Diego. We’ve made a lot of music and people like our sound. And—I get that you might not want to leave Houston.”
Diego held a hand up. “Wait—that’s not it. This isn’t about staying here.”
“Then what is it? Leaving Diana? Hell, she should come with us. Nashville needs teachers too.” Troy licked his lips and leaned forward. “Javier’s on board with this. What with the new baby, he and his wife need more money. He might have to quit the band and get a second job to help them make ends meet. Georgia said she’s okay with meeting with the producers, too.” Troy took a deep breath and caught Diego’s eyes. “We’re all waiting for you to say yes.”
The rest of the band was ready to drop their lives here and move east to ‘make it big.’ “We’re not kids anymore,” Diego said slowly. He took another sip and set his drink down. “What if we don’t make it?”
“We’ll have at least tried. Let’s face it. It’s like you said—we’re not kids. We’ve probably only got a few more years playing bars and clubs here before we’re relegated to being one of those bands that everyone remembers, but who’s not quite cool enough to headline a gig. Before that happens, I want to see if Steel Horse could be more. We’re clicking like never before. Georgia was a great addition last summer. Between her voice and your songs, I can’t see us failing. But if it doesn’t work, then I’ll accept that. I just hate the idea of nottrying.” Troy’s hand reached out. “You’re one of my oldest friends, Diego, and we’ve been strumming together a long time. Think about it, okay?”
“Of course.” Diego couldn’t not consider Troy’s request, especially if everyone else wanted to try. “Give me a few days to think about it…and let’s talk as a group at practice next week.”
As he drove home from downtown Houston, a cold front rolled in with crisp determination. Diego's eyes scanned the city skyline in the distance, taking it all in as he rolled down the windows, letting the cool wind blow through his hair and ruffle his clothes.
Leaving Houston—Troy had been wrong about that.
This wasn't his home, not really. It was a place that he’d been exiled to ten years ago. Despite being taken in by family and making good friends along the way, there was nothing keeping him here except for the lack of anywhere else to go. The realization hit Diego hard—he was still an outsider, even after all this time.
The sight of a cherry red BMW Roadster in the parking lot of his apartment complex shook him from those broody thoughts. Diego grinned as he opened the front door to his apartment and spotted the lanky figure of his roommate—no.Formerroommate, as the plastic tubs in the living room reminded him. “Hey, what’s up, loser?” Diego asked as he dropped his car keys in the small bowl near the door.
