Focusing was hard, but he’d pull through.
They made it through the first two songs and the audience went berserk over Bax’s newest creation—a song about being married that was 100 percent about Courtney.
They’d nearly made it through the last refrain when Mach growled into the mic. Funny, that wasn’t part of the song, but it worked with the lyrics. They should probably add that in as a permanent addition.
Lead singer Bax threw Mach a look like he’d started singing Baby Shark in the middle of his set. Maybe not so permanent, after all?
Tanner kept his ear on the beat, not letting it drop. Because Mach might growl like that into the mic and shit stayed together, but if Tanner dropped the beat, it’d all fall apart.
He didn’t expect Sam to seek him out right after the first set. That’d put her in the light, and he got she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
“She good?” he asked Hans when he slid back into the Dimefront booth. He had gone on a Sam check for Tanner.
“I added security,” Hans grumbled. “And tossed out two guys who kept visiting their table. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.” Tanner leaned forward to check out the back, to see if he could catch a glimpse.
Hans shook his head. “Keep doing that and you’ll blow the operation.”
Tanner lifted his hands. “Fine. I’m gonna go hit the bar. Anybody want anything?”
“He’s not hitting the bar,” Bax said, arm draped around Courtney.
“Nope,” Courtney agreed.
They weren’t wrong. He was gonna head to the bar, see if he couldn’t catch a better glimpse of Sam.
He nearly made it to the bar top—
“Tanner?”
He’d know that voice anywhere. His body seemed stuck in some kind of stasis loop of uncertainty.
Catiana.
No idea what he expected when he turned to face her, but his tongue held stiff against the roof of his mouth and his cheeks tingled from the blood flow there.
“Surprise!” She made jazz hands beside her face.
The ache in his chest when he used to think about her dissolved into… nothing. They’d been friends first. She’d known him before his parents went away. The shit that happened after? The shit with her? It’d affected him more than he’d like to admit—hell, her actions had a direct correlation to his inability to stay a normal color when talking to women.
None of that mattered anymore, and yet his brain went foggy and his mouth wouldn’t work.
“You’re not going to say anything?” she asked, nudging his arm with her fist. “How great is it to see me again?”
“What are you doing here?” he stammered.
She moved in, taking some of his personal space.
That was no good. He tried to step back, but the wall of people waiting in line at the bar was too much.
“You are a hard guy to pin down,” she said. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you for forever.”
He frowned. “Why?”
He’d put himself right up in front of the world.
“I know we left things bad,” she said, and he knew she meant it. Once upon a helluva long time ago, he’d known her better than anyone. “I’m sorry about it. The whole thing. I really am sorry. It’s just… I miss you. I miss us. You’re my guy, Tanner.”
