Page 16 of Dedicated

A dull pang rattled around my chest, and I took a deep breath, then went to the back of the car and started hauling my gear inside.

The inside of the cabin smelled as it had the last three times we’d come, and like I’d predicted it would that first time. Clean and lemony, faintly of bleach and pine. It reminded me of growing up, and though this cabin was pretty small, my childhood homes—because there’d been a few—had been even smaller. Still, there was something comforting and cozy about it. Peaceful, and I was glad the wildfires that had devastated the area a while back had spared it.

Two bedrooms and a bathroom off the short hallway opened into the living room kitchen combo. Down a steep flight of stairs, a basement opened onto the wooded slope outside. The music room was down there, too, so I dropped my guitars there first, then jogged back upstairs and claimed the same bedroom I always claimed, with a view of the forest— currently a thick canopy of green. There was a TV with local channels we rarely used, and Wi-Fi, so I set up my laptop in the kitchen and checked our numbers. Still unimpressive. Byron sent me the SoundScans to look at every few days at my request, even though he’d promised me time and time again he was keeping a close eye on it. It drove Les crazy that I fixated on them.

When I turned to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, Les’s voice coiled and curled seductively around my ear so acutely I almost looked over my shoulder to see if he was there.Make him feel good, sweetheart.The echo of his words that night rolled through me, and my heart hammered in my chest, blood rushing to my cock so fast I should’ve been light-headed. I gripped the edge of the counter, but that was no good either because I immediately thought of how my nails dug into the underside the last time we were here.

Fuck, maybe this had been a bad idea.

It wasa quarter past nine when Blink hammered on the front door and the two of them stumbled inside. I looked up from where I was flipping through an old copy ofRolling Stoneon the couch at Les dragging his suitcase behind him. Blink saluted me, then turned and hurried back out.

My gaze lingered on Les, assessing him, and he knew it. A stare down ensued. I took in the four-day scruff along his jaw, the circles under his eyes, and the dry crack in one corner of his mouth. Les was universally attractive in a way that a human of any orientation would agree. He had an enigmatic allure, like he carried around his own atmosphere with him, and the closer you got, the more he’d absorb you into his world. I’d been trying to pinpoint it for years—whether it was the deep set of his eyes, the thick black lashes over muddy green, the dark brows and carved cheekbones over a sensuous mouth—which more than a few magazines had rhapsodized over. He was both masculine and feminine at once.

But I’d only seen him look like ransacked garbage on one occasion, when we’d both gotten hit with food poisoning in Germany.

This was the second time.

It wasn’t just that he physically appeared hungover or strung out or exhausted. It was something else, something less tangible, like a soul-deep tiredness that dimmed his eyes as they flickered over me blankly. He looked like he was tired of his own skin. Or maybe I was just projecting my own irritation at feeling like his constant custodian. My desire to find some common ground with him again butted up against extreme annoyance. He’d clearly partied hard in Vegas.

“It’s good to see you,” he said. The greeting surprised me so much I didn’t know how to respond back. I was expecting animosity, or snark, but he sounded like he meant it.

One side of his mouth twitched up in a tentative smile, then he pulled a small black plastic bag from his pocket and tossed it toward me. “I’m gonna go crash.”

I caught the bag, lifting a brow in a silent question that he didn’t answer as he snatched the handle of his suitcase up again and tugged it down the hall after him. The door to his bedroom clicked shut behind him.

Blink returned, bobbling a couple of guitar cases and bags, which he set beside the door. Then he stood there, looking around and rubbing his hands together briskly as he gave me a tight smile and seemed uncertain of what to say.

“How was Vegas?”

He seemed surprised by the question and shrugged, wandering deeper inside the cabin to drop heavily into the chair across from me.

“It was Vegas, I guess. You know, a place where nothing changes yet is constantly changing.”

I’d never understood the draw. Vegas was just noise to me. Noise and overexposure on every front. “That’s why he likes it.”

Blink considered, running a finger over his upper lip. “I don’t know if it goes that deep for him. I think it’s more like an exciting distraction. Shinies everywhere.” He wiggled his fingers, and I cracked a small smile. He was right about that, too. There was a lot about Les that was almost fae; he loved everything bright and scintillating.

“Looks like y’all had a good time.”

Blink’s mouth screwed up in a wince. “We went hard, yeah.” He paused, and I could tell he was debating saying more or just leaving it alone. “He’s stressed. He knows he’s on the line, Ev.”

“We both are,” I said impassively.

“Yeah, but you do well under pressure. Les just sort of… collapses.”

I flipped the magazine shut and tossed it aside where it skittered over the couch cushions and landed on the floor. “Then it’s time for him to figure his shit out. I’m tired of doing it for him.”

“Not gonna lie, even I’m having a hard time keeping up with him, lately.” His hands were fidgeting all over the place, with threads on his shorts, the hem of his shirt. Part of that was just Blink; he was full of energy, always restless, but I felt like I was making him nervous somehow. I guess I could understand. He didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“It’s not your job to keep up with him,” I pointed out. “It’s not anyone’s job.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m his friend, too, and hey, it used to be fun.”

“Things change.” I shrugged. “He get into too much trouble out there?” It was Les, so I didn’t really need to ask. He’d ride the Whore of Babylon, then ask who was next.

Blink rolled one shoulder, looking back over to the door, probably itching to leave. “Nah. Nothing out of the ordinary.” By which I deduced plenty of drinking and plenty of sex. I got an unwelcome sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Actually, for him it was pretty tame. Anyway—” Blink stood. “Guess I’ll head out.”