“Nora,” I called as I rushed off the bleachers and after my sister.
She was way past me, and I cursed myself for wearing black jeans in this Texas heat. I was heaving as I reached her. I was not cut out for running. A three-hour set under stage lights? Sure. Running? No.
“Nora, wait. Jesus, I can’t run like you.”
She slowed and swiped at the tears in her eyes. “God, you’re out of shape.”
“I’m really, really in shape for a musician.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can barely run.”
“I lift weights,” I offered.
“You look pathetic.”
“God, I love having siblings,” I said as I caught my breath. “Running sucks.”
“I’m surprised you’re even here.”
“Can’t want to see my baby sister play?”
“No. You’re here for Blaire.”
“Yeah, okay. That’s true.” I slung an arm over her shoulders as we continued to her car. “But I can be worried for you. Should I go knock August on his ass?”
“No,” she said, her voice going small.
“He fucking deserves it. What is he even doing here? I thought you replaced him on the team.”
“We did. The captain of the other team invited him to sub. He said he didn’t know they were playing The Tacos.”
“So, why are you running? Tell him to get the fuck out. This is your team. He can’t run you off.”
“I can’t do it, Campbell,” she said, leaning back against her car. “I just can’t do it. I can’t pretend that I’m okay anymore. I had to move out of my apartment with Tamara. I lost my boyfriend and my best friend. I’m living with a stranger. I like Weston. Don’t get me wrong. He’s cool.”
“He is cool.”
“But it’s just…awful.” She started crying again then. “It’s awful. I hurt all the time. I want him back. It’s been almost two months, and I still feel like I can’t fucking breathe when I think about it. Is it ever going to get better?”
I thought about Blaire back out there on the field and how my presence still hurt her like this. It had gotten better, but it was never exactly good. I was working on better. I believed Nora could have better.
I drew my sister into my arms and held her tight. “It will get better.”
“When?” she gasped through her tears. “My chest feels like it’s been ripped open and my heart is flopping around inside. And every time I see him, it’s worse, not better.”
“I know. I’m sorry, shrimp.”
She cried against my shirt for a few minutes, only pulling back when a car parked across from us. Weston stepped out of the Subaru. Nora tried to wipe her tears, but her eyes were bloodshot. She looked a wreck. But when Weston looked at her, something switched on.
I liked Weston Wright. In fact, I’d already call him a friend. We clicked out of the studio, but in the studio, it was as if we’d always been making music together. He had incredible musicality and was a genius on the keys. But that didn’t mean that I wanted him to look at my little sister like that. Not when the last thing she needed was a complicated roommate situation.
“Wright,” I said with a raised eyebrow.
“Hey, is everything all right?” he asked, walking toward us with his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah,” Nora said with a sniffle. “It’s okay. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you play. Julian gave me the soccer schedule. You talk about how much you like it, so I thought I’d show. I know shit about soccer.”
“That’s…that’s nice of you,” she admitted.
“Real nice.”
He caught my tone of voice and nodded once. “Are you not playing?”
She swallowed and glanced over at me. “Maybe I should still play.”
“If you’re up for it.”
“You came just for me?” Nora asked West in a soft voice.
He rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, I like to support my roommate.”
Her smile brightened slightly on the edges. And as much as I did not like where this was heading, I couldn’t deny that he’d gotten the result that I’d wanted.
“Okay,” she said. “Go on ahead. Give me a minute.”
“You sure?”
She nodded.
I kissed the top of her head and then headed back to the fields with Weston. “So…you’re into my sister?”
Weston held his hands up. “I’m just being a good roommate. What happened?”
“August and Tamara showed.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. So, you can see why I’m concerned about her getting hurt again.”
West nodded. “I hear you.”
I wasn’t sure that I believed him. But I didn’t need to stick my nose where it didn’t belong. Nora was too hurt to start a new relationship anyway. She’d figure it all out eventually.
It ended up being a good thing that we went ahead of Nora. Because on the way, we ran into a very disgruntled Tamara. She crossed her arms over her chest and stomped past us. Clearly, someone had told her she had to go home. From what I knew of her, I was shocked that she’d listened. Which meant it had to have been August.
We waited until she was well out of the way before continuing. The last thing I wanted was for Nora to run into her. It was enough that Tamara had stolen her boyfriend. She didn’t deserve to deal with the bitch beyond that horror.
“Hey, West!” Santi said, scooting over to make room for him on the bleachers.
West blinked at him. That was just Santi though. He was always the most enthusiastic and inviting member of our group. I didn’t know anyone else who would have actually handed me a guitar that night I’d called them out for having bad lyrics. Even if Santi had been making fun of me.
“Thanks, man,” West said and took the offered seat.
We’d gone into the studio to get used to the equipment. Michael had been irritable the entire time we were there. LBK Studios was far from what we were used to in LA. Maybe we’d all gotten a little used to the better equipment, but we weren’t recording here. We were figuring out the new songs and finding our sound. Michael had outright refused to come out with us today. Which he wasn’t obligated, but I could feel the weight of his refusal on everyone’s shoulders.
Viv pulled her phone up. “Everyone, smile.” She stuck her tongue out as we drew in closer. “Kris says hi.”
“Tell her I said hi,” I told her. Viv’s girlfriend, Kris, was a riot. She’d joined us for the West Coast portion of our tour. “Better yet, tell her to fly out.”
“She’s busy,” Viv said. “She gets it. It’s part of the job.”
“At least the music is good,” Yorke said with an arched eyebrow.
Viv laughed and kissed his cheek. “That’s true, big boy.”
There was that. Despite their frustration with coming out here to figure out the album, the songs were good. They’d all loved “Invisible Girl,” and I’d played the intro to “Rooftop Nights” and the song I’d started writing about my mom, tentatively titled “Alone.” I’d even been able to pull in lyrics from the notebook finally. Now that I had inspiration, I could take Bobby’s advice and create something out of the nothingness that had been there only a few weeks ago.
We all watched the game. We got some looks, and a few people asked for a picture, but generally, we were left alone. It was like I’d told Blaire—ninety-nine times out of a hundred.
“Your brother is going for that striker,” Santi said, leaning forward. “He’s sure making it interesting.”
That striker was August, who was doing an okay job of avoiding Hollin. But not a good enough job. Seeing Nora’s tears made me give zero fucks about what happened here.
But even I hissed in shock at a particularly brutal slide tackle halfway through the second half. The ref blew the whistle, a red card sliding out of her pocket.
Hollin tried to argue, but, well, it had definitely been an illegal slide tackle, and August was still on the ground. Annie smacked him on the side of the head and yelled in his face, something about how they needed him for finals. Hollin stomped off the field, but I couldn’t keep the smirk off my face. We met each other’s eyes, and he laughed.
I held my fist out, and he bumped me. “Nice one.”
He snorted. “Could have been worse.”
“The first few were at least clean.”
Santi leaned across me, holding out his own fist. “I heard what he did to your sister. Worth it.”
Hollin hit his fist, looking like a fucking hero. “Yeah, man.”
Viv blew her bubblegum bangs out of her face. “Men.”
Despite playing a man down, The Tacos still cleaned house. Blaire was particularly unstoppable. Girl goals counted for two in this league, and between her and Eve, the other team hardly stood a chance. Even with Nora playing as if in a daze.
The team invited us to celebratory pizza after the game, and I drove the band to Capital Pizza in Tech Terrace, just off the Texas Tech University campus. Blaire hadn’t quite looked in my direction when we were invited, and I took that as a good sign. She was still going to be there. She wasn’t going to ditch to avoid me. Maybe we were salvageable after all.
Nora had gone home though. After dealing with August and playing throughout the game, she hadn’t wanted to celebrate, and I could hardly blame her.
Annie commandeered the long table at the back of the pizza joint. With the band, we were an even larger group than normal. Blaire sat at one end of the table, and I sank into the seat across from her. She looked up at me with surprise.
“Hey,” I said with a smile.
She glanced down at the menu. “Hey.”
“The band wanted to meet you.”
“Really?” Her eyes were wide as they took their seats next to me. “I did kind of meet them backstage.”
“That’s right,” Santi said. “I knew I remembered you.”
She smiled. “You probably meet a thousand girls on tour.”
“Yeah, but you were the only girl that made Campbell stand up in protest when I put my arm around you.”
I glared at Santi. Of course that was what he fucking remembered. “That isn’t what happened.”
“That’s how I remember it,” Blaire piped up. She arched an eyebrow at me in challenge.
Okay, maybe that was how it had gone down. And worse, she’d shot me that same imperious look as she was giving me now. One that said, What the fuck are you going to do about it? A few months ago, when I’d seen her at the show, the answer had been, Nothing. That wasn’t the answer anymore.
“Well, I felt justified,” I said with a shrug.
Her mouth popped open for a second before she covered it quickly. “And why is that?”
“Yeah,” Santi said, elbowing me in the ribs. “Why are you justified?”
Viv snorted, nudging Blaire’s elbow. “Because she’s fucking gorg.” She winked at Blaire. “Hey, babe. I’m Viv.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Eve sank into the seat next to Viv. “You’re Viv Underwood.”
Viv’s eyed Eve appreciatively. She’d tugged her jersey off, and she was just in a sports bra, which did little to cover her chest. I had to force myself to look somewhere else, but Viv was clearly having difficulty.
“Sure am. Who are you, beautiful?”
“Eve.” They shook hands in the small space. Eve’s eyes turned to the rest of the band. “Santi, Yorke, and Campbell. You’re missing one.”
“Michael doesn’t like soccer,” Santi purred.
Viv shot him a look that said, Come on. Give me this one!
Santi just looked back at her and mouthed one word—Kris.
Viv huffed.
“His loss,” Eve said.
“So, are you a Cosmere fan, baby?” Santi asked with a wink.
Eve shrugged. “Not really.”
Blaire snorted. “Classic.”
“No offense,” Eve said. “I like heavier stuff.”
“None taken,” Yorke said before the rest of the band could speak.
“Then, how do you know us all?” Viv asked.
Eve shrugged. “I had a roommate who was a big fan.”
Just then, Blaire’s assistant, Honey, plopped down into the seat at the head of the table. She had clearly gotten her fangirl under control and just said, “Hey, y’all.”
Santi nodded toward Yorke, who shrugged. I knew what that meant. Yorke’s preferences ran toward short blondes. Honey fit the bill. Well, at least my bandmates were making the best of a bad situation.
“So, why did you want to meet me?” Blaire asked after introductions were made.
Santi leaned forward with a grin. “We want you to make more videos.”