“Eat,” he ordered.
I took the food from him, asking, “What’s the time?”
“Coming up to three. Your boys have been jamming out in the rehearsal room. They told me to leave you to write, or else you’d turn into a Banshee.”
I chuckled. “The only time I get snappy is when somebody interrupts my writing process. When I’m in the zone, I like to stay there, or else I lose my train of thought.”
“You’re being okay with me now,” Jacob pointed out.
“I just finished,” I explained, opening the top of the clear plastic container and grabbing the plastic fork that came with it. “This looks good. Thanks.”
“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked.
My heart fluttered at his concern. “Only the big pile of eggs you made me this morning.”
He grinned. “Anyone would think I was one of those weird feeders.”
“Aren’t you?” I challenged, eyeing the salad pointedly.
“If I were, that salad would be tacos,” he muttered, nodding toward my lunch. “Not shrimp and goddamned chicken rabbit food.”
“I love shrimp and chicken,” I muttered, forking a heap of food into my mouth.
“So do I when it’s from a Chinese restaurant.”
I chewed my food and swallowed. “I love Chinese food, too.”
He flashed me his sexy grin again, “We went to a Chinese place after the festival, remember?”
“Yeah,” I breathed before turning his words from the day before back on him. “I remember everything.”
Jacob’s gaze flickered as it held mine, and for a moment, I was transported back to the time we spent together.
A flicker of resentment ignited inside me.
We were both there that night, and I knew he felt the same things I felt. It hurt knowing how easily he’d carried on with his life when, without my music, I think I would’ve fallen apart.
Jacob cleared his throat, his face taking on a guarded look as he stepped back.
“Enjoy your lunch,” he said, his entire aura suddenly distant. Then I watched him turn around and leave, his easy demeanor replaced by a tension I couldn’t explain.
It was like he’d closed the curtains on his emotions, and I was on the outside trying to see in, only to be shut out.
I stabbed at my food, trying to shake off the unexpected ache in my belly from the surge of emotions. Maybe I needed to purge my feelings into a song and just move the fuck on already.
I felt my throat start to tingle.
God only knew why I kept trying to flog the dead horse that was Jacob Irons. It may have felt right, and our connection may have been stronger than I’d ever experienced before, but sometimes, what felt true and honest, in reality, was very wrong.
And after two years, it was time to start accepting it.
I spied Boomer’s approach through the glass window. He opened the door, poking his head around it. “Are we gonna rehearse the new arrangement? Skip’s gone over everything with us, and we’ve got it down. We just need your eight-string and some vocals.”
Boomer's easy energy lightened the heaviness in the room, and I forced a smile, pushing away all thoughts of Jacob. “On my way.” Then, grabbing my salad, drink, and notepad, I followed my friend to the rehearsal room.
“How do you like the changes?” I asked, walking over to Sam to give him a one-armed hug, then fist-bumping Jonny, who was already sitting at his drum kit.
Just being amongst my bandmates lifted my spirits, and suddenly, I felt lighter. This was what I needed to focus on. Whenever I stood up with my boys, my troubles melted away until all that was left was the music.
