At four-thirty-five,Linx slunk through the front doors of the recording studio, hands stuffed in his hoodie. He pulled the thing off once he was inside. Sure, he’d shown up with plenty of time to be early, but he jacked around on his phone, hoping Becca would text. The guys would have to wait. Petty, yes, but they’d made him wait long enough.
Becca still hadn’t reached out, so his mood soured worse than it’d been that morning. And that was saying something.
He pulled open the door to the sound booth. Bax and Knox were already in the studio. They weren’t shooting the shit and playing warm-ups like he’d expected. They were sitting in a circle with Hans and their emotional-support, Brek.
Linx pulled open the door to the recording booth, and all the chatter stopped.
“Linx.” Bax stood. He had a look of relief that he could just wipe right the hell off his face. “Thank fuck you came.” He held out his hand for Linx.
A peace offering. An olive branch Linx wasn’t ready to consider.
Therefore, Linx didn’t shake it. He stared at it then glanced up to the face of the man who had once been his friend.
Saying nothing, he walked to the side of the room where his bass was still in the case. He’d had it couriered over earlier and gave explicit instructions that no one touch it without him present. He may not have had a reputation of being serious about much, but he was serious about this, and he’d made that clear enough times that no one screwed with it.
“I’m sorry,” Bax said to Linx’s back. “I fucked up. I’m trying to make it right.”
“You assholes want to make music? By all means, let’s make music.” Linx jerked the bass out of the case with more force than necessary. He squeezed the neck. Hard.
Fuck, he needed to break something. He didn’t want it to be his instrument. He was seriously considering Bax’s nose.
“I said.” Bax stepped forward, palms up. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Linx asked, going through the motions of set-up—the cords, the tuning, setting the mic stand—but not feeling anything but numb inside.
“I’m sorry for jacking you around about the band,” Bax said, sincere, ignoring Knox. “Taking off with Em. Leaving you hanging.”
Linx glared at him. It wasn’thimhe was pissed about. Courtney hadn’t been able to eat anything until well into the afternoon. She was miserable because his former buddy couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
“Yeah, well..not accepted.” Linx played a couple of cords. Totally out of fucking tune.
“Apologize for dicking around with his sister.” Knox ground his back teeth together, visibly. “Start with that one instead.”
“We move the band to Denver.” Bax said, widening his stance. “Knox is in. Hans is in. Brek’s already here to help us sort our shit when it gets too serious. You’re here. Courtney’s here.”
Linx glanced to him at the mention of his sister.
Bax had the decency to look wrecked. “You may not believe this, but I care about her. I care what happens to her. I care about the baby. I care about what you think, too.”
“You touched her.” Linx swallowed against the betrayal. “Family is off limits. We all know that. But you fucking touched her.”
“Hey.” Knox kicked off from his stool and moved next to Bax. “Seems to me there were two people there. You’re not pissed at Courtney for—” Whatever he was going to say, apparently he thought better of it. “—doing the dirty with this fuck face.”
Bax sighed. “I’ll eat your shit because I deserve it. But I want to do what’s right for her. Not because she’s your sister, or she works with the band…because she’s Courtney and she deserves better.”
“That’s the fucking truth,” Linx said, under his breath.
“Whatever she needs, even if that means I stay away until she’s ready to let me in.” Bax’s throat worked.
Did his eyes mist? His eyes totally misted.
Fuck.
He was sorry.
And Knox wasn’t wrong. Linx had laid all the blame at Bax’s feet because it was easier.
“I screwed up, and I want to fix it,” Bax said. The sincerity in his tone seemed pure enough.
