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And that’s enough… for now.
Nineteen
Nate
Rachel’s wrath over our early exit from the gala burns out faster than expected, especially when she realizes having Lacey stay through Wednesday works perfectly for album launch preparations. It’s a win I’ll gladly take, especially since it means more time with Lacey.
Today, I get to share my world with her.
“Are you sure I won’t be in the way?” Lacey asks as we pull into the studio parking lot. She’s wearing ripped jeans and one of my old band t-shirts, looking nothing like the company’s princess and everything like the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
“You’re never in the way.” I kill the engine. “Besides, everybody’s been asking when you’re coming to rehearsal.”
My words seem to reassure her, though there are still hints of insecurity in her eyes.
“Though I should warn you—practice can be intense.” I reach over, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “This is my world, Lace. You sure you want to see it?”
The vulnerability in her eyes shifts to determination. “Show me everything.”
The moment we walk into the studio, Sam jumps up. “Finally! Lacey Monroe graces us with her presence!”
“Ignore him,” Cass calls from where he’s tuning his guitar. “He’s just excited to have a new audience for his terrible jokes.”
“My jokes are great,” Sam protests. “Tell them, Emily.”
Emily, perched on a stool near the soundboard with baby Presley, just rolls her eyes. “Don’t drag me into this.”
Luke’s already at his keyboard. “We have a full audience today.” His hand going around Lila sitting next to him.
Vince strolls in last, guitar case in hand. “Can we actually start practice, or are we just going to stand around all day?”
“Someone needs coffee,” Sam stage-whispers. “Vince is grumpy because he’s the only band member without a significant other.”
“I like it that way,” Vince grouches as he gets out his guitar. He glances over at Lacey. “You any good on the drums?”
She tilts her head sideways with a grin. “No, but I can hold a tambourine.”
Cass laughs. “That’s more than Vince can do before noon.”
Vince flips him off without even turning around.
I guide Lacey to a comfortable spot near the girls before taking a seat behind my drums. I roll my shoulders, shaking off the weird, restless energy buzzing through me.
It’s fine. The guys and I have done this a million times. Only, I’ve never had Lacey watching me before. She’s perched on the edge of her seat, those brown eyes following my every movement, and suddenly, I want to show her exactly what I can do.
The familiar weight of my drumsticks centers me, and I feel the shift happening—the one that always comes when it’s time to play. This is the one place where I come alive.
I know every beat, every transition. I don’t have to think—I just move.
We start with a warm-up, an old cover we all know by heart. The energy builds naturally, everyone falling into rhythm as I keep the beat. This is what I love—the way the music flows, how we can read each other’s cues without words.
Cass’s guitar thrums through the room, Vince’s riffs slide effortlessly between the notes, Sam’s bass keeps everything grounded, and Luke layers the keys with just the right amount of texture.
Cass exhales, shaking his head. “Damn. That felt good.”
Sam grunts his agreement, reaching for his water bottle.
We tear through one of the new songs, and by the time we hit the final note, my pulse is thrumming in sync with the music.