“I might go to the music room for a bit. Is that okay?” he asks.
My brow furrows.
He’s asking permission?
Colt never asks.
He just does.
It’s who he is.
“You don’t need to ask me,” I mutter. “You can do whatever you want.”
He stands slowly, taking his plate to the sink. I don’t look up, but I feel him leaving—feel the weight of his absence like a cold draft.
I close my eyes, swallow hard.What the hell is happening to us?
We can’t even share a meal without this awkward tension strangling the room. We were never like this. We used to be inseparable. Now, we’re two strangers clinging to memories.
Princess jumps up beside me, her little tail wagging like everything’s perfect. I glance down at her, so happy, so unaware of the mess her owners are in. I stroke her head absently, then spear a small bite from my plate and offer it to her on the fork. She takes it delicately, like a proper little lady. It still amazes me how I managed to teach her that. Something so small, but it reminds me that I’m still capable of something.
If only life could be as simple as it is for Princess.
She begs for more, tail thumping, and I give in, placing the plate on the floor for her. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.
From down the hall, the sound of Colt’s guitar begins to drift toward me, soft at first, then bolder. My lips twitch at the corners. At least he’s okay when he’s playing. Music is his therapy. His escape. I wish I had something like that.
I wander into the living room, flick the television on, and fall into the couch, letting the cushions absorb some of my heaviness. I don’t even watch what’s playing. I just listen to Colt.
He’s so damn good. Even without lyrics, his guitar sings. And in my mind, I can still hear his voice—rough, rich, perfect. It settles something in me. Anchors me.
I mute the television and close my eyes, letting the music wash over me.
Then something changes. The rhythm. The tempo. It’s new, something I haven’t heard before. My head lifts from the cushion, curiosity piqued. I rise and follow the sound like amagnet, down the hall, until I’m just outside the doorway. I don’t want to interrupt, not when he’s so deep in it.
He starts to hum along with the melody, low and effortless, and my breath catches. Even that—just a hum—lights something inside me. He’s thePied Piperand I’m helpless to resist.
I step closer, peeking in to find him completely lost in the music, eyes closed, head nodding in time. And in that moment, I remember exactly why I fell for him.
Why I still fall.
Colter Slade is more than just a rock god.
He’s my rock.
He hits the final chord and exhales, chest rising and falling with a quiet satisfaction. I don’t move, just watch him. Then I slowly start to clap.
His eyes open, locking with mine. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he smiles.
“You’re such a sexy rock god, you know that?” I tease, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.
He chuckles low, placing his guitar carefully into its stand. “And you’re a sexy Slayette.” His eyes gleam with amusement as he stalks toward me.
I tilt my head, heart a little lighter. “Was that a new song?”
He closes the distance between us and nods. “Yeah. The one you, me, and Johnny worked on. What’d you think?”
I grin, genuinely. “It’s perfect, Colt.”
