I don’t sing. Not yet. I scowl into the crowd, letting the beat vibrate through the soles of my boots, through my ribs, through the part of me that just wanted a quiet drink and an early night.I should have known better.
Kade’s voice slices through the noise from our booth like the devil himself. “Come on, Rhett. Put your back into it.”
Murder dances behind my eyes, but the crowd doesn’t give me time to think. Two women up front are already egging the twins on, waving dollar bills with manic grins as if this is a Vegas club, not some dive bar with beer-stained floors and a jukebox older than I am.
Flashing a grin that could get him arrested, Cole breaks away first and strips his shirt off in one quick move. It flies into the crowd and lands in some screeching brunette’s lap. With a dramatic flair, Jace twirls his shirt overhead like a lasso before tossing it. His chest glistens with sweat and whatever beer splashed on him earlier. One of the women whistles, and then the bills start flying like confetti around our feet.
“Take it off, pretty boys!”
Dear sweet baby Jesus. This is why I don’t do karaoke with these two.
Proving my point, Jace does an exaggerated bump and grind against Cole, then stuffs a dollar bill into the waistband of his jeans with a flourish that has the crowd howling. Cole throws his head back and soaks it in like he’s on stage at a sold-out arena. Climbing onto one of the stools shoved near the stage’s edge, Jace starts shredding air guitar like it owes him money.
Heat prickles beneath my collar as I try like hell not to let the corner of my mouth twitch.
Cole turns, catching my eye. His grin is wicked and soaked in triumph as he shoves my shoulder. “Come on, Rhett. Sing it.”
Before I can stop myself, a bark of laughter slips out, raw and too fucking honest. For the first time in a long time, I feel light. Unburdened. And I’m enjoying just being their brother instead of the father figure I’ve beenforced to become. My head drops for a second as I exhale hard through my nose. Then I lift the mic, square my shoulders, and give the crowd exactly what they came for.
My voice rasps through the first few lines I sing, too loud and unapologetically off pitch. The mic squeals with feedback. I don’t care. No one else does either. The song rolls over us, chaotic and joyful and loud as hell. My shoulders loosen, the weight of life dissipating with every lyric I shout into the mic. I lean into the rhythm as Jace throws in the “da-da-da-da” backup vocals like he was born to do it. Cole loops his arm around my shoulders and drags us both into a full-body stomp that shakes the stage beneath us. More bills rain down, and someone tosses a bra—black lace—which lands on Jace’s shoulder like fate itself.
We hit the chorus with every ounce of breath we’ve got. My throat burns. My chest aches from laughing too hard, from shouting too loud, from feeling too fucking much.
And somehow, despite myself, I’m grinning like an idiot, lost in the madness.
For the first time in what feels like years, I forget everything. The exhaustion, the expectations, the past. I’m just here—on this stage, with my brothers, half drunk and half dressed, screaming out the cheesiest song ever written and not giving a single damn who hears it.
The final “DA-DA-DA-DA!” crashes out of us,unhinged and victorious, the kind of ending that leaves your lungs burning and your heart light.
Cole raises both arms in triumph like we’ve just won the Super Bowl while Jace throws himself into a bow, arms sweeping wide.
I drag a hand through my damp hair, chest still heaving as I toss the mic toward the sound guy. It skids across the floor with a screech of feedback, and I hop off the edge of the stage, the buzz of adrenaline still fizzing in my blood.
And that’s when I see her.
Just inside the doorway.
She’s still as a shadow, lit in flickering neon, dark hair loose around her shoulders, and bourbon eyes locked on mine like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment to ruin me.Again.
Noah Lane.My ex-fiancée.
NOAH
2
My stomach twistsinto ugly tangles of knots as I stare into the dark eyes I gladly would have drowned in once upon a time. Even at this distance, I can tell they no longer hold an ounce of the love Rhett Rivers once had for me. There’s nothing but disdain hidden in his chocolate gaze, a hard truth that shakes me to my core.
And yet, I drink him in, the man who holds so many of my firsts. He’s all broad shoulders and chiseled features, his jawline coated in stubble. He throws back a tumbler of amber liquid, never stopping his slow perusal of me. I tuck a rogue lock of hair behind my ear, purposely forcing myself to look elsewhere.
Coming to Boozin’ Boots was a bad idea.
I hadn’t been at Lilac Meadows with Sage more than thirty minutes when Brandy and Cassidy—friends Ihaven’t seen since my days of working at the bar—had shown up, each one boasting a bottle of tequila and excitement over spending an evening catching up.
That’s when the quiet night Sage and I planned flew straight out the window. And now, everyone but me is too busy waving hello as we enter the bar to notice what I already have—there’s a brooding cowboy across the room staring right at me. Completely unaware of my inner turmoil, the girls make a beeline across the crowded space. I’d rather sit anywhere else because the half-empty booth is inconveniently occupied by the Rivers brothers… including the one I once called mine.
My step falters for a split second, but when it does, Sage feels it. Her attention darts to where my gaze is pinned. “Oh god,” her eyes growing as wide as saucers. “I didn’t thinkhe’dbe here.” She lifts a hand in greeting to Kade and his brothers, all of whom return it with a wave or a nod. Her man shoots her a mischievous smile, and a faint blush hits her cheeks. They aresosmitten with each other. The intensity zaps the air like an electric current. I miss that feeling.
Exhaling hard, I try for a smile as Sage loops her arm with mine, but an ache is spreading through my chest, threatening to take me out.
