Page 3 of Heartbeat Highway (Love Along Route 14)

B o–present day

The one thing that hasn’t changed? Lily and K—because he’s now officially changed his name, the douche nozzle—are still dating.

Trust me, no one is more surprised than I am that they’re still together.

K stands in front of the tour bus, his hands so weighted down with thick metal rings it’s a miracle he can hold them up against gravity.

He’s signing some girl’s wrist with a permanent marker.

Howl has become more of a mainstream name than I ever expected, which drives me fucking bananas because it means my father never stops texting me, trying to get me to cross-promote.

Crooked may have fallen apart years ago, but if you listen to my dad, they’re always one step away from a reunion tour.

If you listen to K— which I almost never do for the preservation of my eardrums and sanity—Howl’s success is because of him.

He talked us—well, Dan—into playing covers.

Mostly because his vocal range can’t handle Maxim’s pieces, but still.

Now we’re a fucking glorified cover band.

The only salvation is that everyone backs me up when I refuse to add Crooked songs to our playlist.

Not that K hasn’t kept trying. I caught him texting Runner last week and I nearly threw his phone into an unhoused person’s loaded shopping cart. I would have loved to see him try to get it back.

“Bo.” Our keyboardist and manager, Dan, claps me on the shoulder.

“Is your equipment on the bus?” With one hand, he scrolls down through a checklist on his tablet.

“We’re scheduled to leave in ten minutes, if K can stop signing people’s tits.

” On cue, a gentleman in a vintage Britney Spears tee approaches our lead singer.

He lifts up his shirt and K does indeed sign right over the guy’s left tit.

“At least Queen Britney is covering up that travesty.” I tap my drumsticks together. “Yeah, Dan. No worries. I’m all packed.”

“Good. I’m going to check on Maxim.” Dan takes his tablet checklist to Maxim. The three of us are dressed like normal people, in jeans and tee shirts. It’s Los Angeles in summer, so it goes from hot to broil in zero-point-two seconds.

But K? He’s grown his long, stringy ash blond hair and beard out, and he’s wearing an unbuttoned denim shirt over the black leather pants that he bragged about paying full price for.

While we are around the same five-ten, he wears heeled boots to try to make himself taller. He looks like an evil orange scarecrow.

I glance around the parking lot. Surely Lily’s coming to see us off. She’s been so excited about it. Far more excited than finishing her second year of law school. She’s supposed to start her internship this summer at a local LA family law firm, so she can’t tour with us.

My cock swells at the thought of her. It’s probably better that she can’t tour with us.

It’s been difficult enough, with her living in the little studio in my backyard.

Thank fuck when she goes out with K, he insists they stay at his place.

I’m a strong guy, but even I can’t handle the reality of close quarters with them on a tour bus for two weeks.

“Fourteen in Fourteen!” K shouts, arms above his head and hands forked into rock and roll signs.

This is Howl’s first big tour. We’ve done local gigs, played in Arizona a few times, and at state fairs.

But Fourteen in Fourteen is a two-week slog of a music fest, each night a different venue along Route 14, a new crowd.

When Dan originally pitched it, it sounded fun.

I’m not going to make it through fourteen gigs in fourteen days, not if I have to deal with K’s shit. I should have quit the band a year ago. I had an opportunity, too, to play drums with the Vendetta while their drummer, the great Lorraine de la Vega, took time off with her new baby.

But no. I stayed for Lily.

I’m a fucking chump.

“Where’s your girl, K?” Maxim asks. The guy in the Britney shirt approaches him, and Maxim signs his right tit this time. Howl fans may not be the prettiest, but damn, they’re loyal. I project my best scowl, grateful the Britney/Howl fan is completely out of tits to sign.

A shadow crosses K’s face. “Studying.” He spits the word like it’s ancient Sanskrit and he’s barely mastered English.

I mean, if the guitar pick fits.

“Ease up on her.” My drumsticks rap more quickly against my thighs. “It’s her second year exams. It’s a big deal.” Law school has not been any kind of joy ride for Lily. Beyond the slog of work and study, the social scene has shut her out. Bunch of virtue-signaling assholes, if you ask me.

“ This is a big deal, Bo.” K spreads his tanned arms wide.

Whatever time he doesn’t devote to practicing with the band is devoted to sunbathing and working out shirtless on Venice Beach.

Since the last time he made it to practice was three days ago, he’s probably well on his way to melanoma and monkeypox by now.

“It’s our first real tour. We’re practically as big as Crooked. ”

This is categorically untrue, but arguing with K is like trying to force slime to maintain its shape.

A beat up silver sedan pulls into the Van Nuys parking lot, and my drumsticks fall to my sides. “Lily’s here,” I say softly.

K rips his gaze off his reflection in the bus and turns to the car.

I can’t stop watching, either. Lily steps out, her hair up in a messy bun held together with pencils, an oversized UW sweatshirt hanging over her full-figured frame in indecent ways.

“K!” She waves to the both of us and runs in our direction.

K is tense beside me. “She couldn’t have dressed up?” he mutters. As soon as he says it, his expression morphs into a gigantic smile and he lifts Lily off the ground in a movie-worthy sweep. “Lil!”

“I’m so glad I didn’t miss you.” Her gaze meets mine over K’s shoulder and she moves her mouth. Hey, Bo .

Hey, Lil , I mouth back. My heart thumps in my chest.

Maxim snorts behind me, and I turn to avoid having to watch K kiss Lily.

“Something you want to add?” I ask.

Maxim glances over at Lily, shaking his head. “Just sorry for you. Haven’t seen anyone have it that badly before.”

I cross my arms over my chest, my drumsticks poised to tap on my left shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“Guys! Seriously!” Dan barks, pointing at the open door of the tour bus. “We have to get on the road in the next five minutes or we’re going to miss our first stop.”

“Ooh, wait!” Lily breaks out of K’s embrace, a smile on her face. “Hold on. I got a present for you guys.”

“Is it something dirty?” K says, into her ear but just loud enough so all the rest of us can hear as well.

“No.” Lily laughs. “Just wait. I’ll be right back.”

She runs to her car, and I try to ignore the way her jeans cup her perfectly round ass. I fucking love a curvy woman.

K places his hands on his hips, even as he watches some of the groupies from the periphery of his vision. I can’t prove he’s cheated on Lily. Trust me, if I could I would have told her.

“I’m going to marry that girl,” he says.

My heart drops lower than my balls. Holy hell, I hope not.

Lily returns, holding a pink box of donuts. “For the road,” she explains, handing it to an unimpressed K. “I woke up early this morning and got the strawberry-filled ones from that place in Glendora. A little OG Route 66 love. For luck.”

K’s lack of reaction causes Lily to bluster, but then he wipes the look off his face and beams at her. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Lil. We’ll love it.”

“Have a great tour.”

“I wish you were coming.”

“I would. Really. But I have finals.”

“Maybe you can meet us,” I say, and it feels like the entire band swivels to look at me.

Shit. This is why I’m a drummer and not a lead singer.

I can’t stand the weight of attention on me.

“Your finals are over after this week, right? I can send you a ticket to Nashville. Then a road trip with us to Georgia.”

“Great idea,” K says through tight lips. “ I’ll send you a ticket, baby girl.”

I don’t miss Lily’s almost imperceptible wince at the nickname.

We got drunk two months ago while watching Bridgerton —huge mistake, by the way, I didn't realize there was quite that much nudity; I had to watch with a damned pillow over my lap the whole time—and she confessed how much she hates it when he calls her that.

In true K fashion, I doubt he listened when she told him.

If she told him.

I swallow, reminding myself that it is not my relationship. I just wish that truth didn’t sting so much.

“Okay.” She flushes, her round cheeks almost as pink as the donut box. “I’ll meet you there. Love you.”

“Love you too, babes.” K subtly hands Maxim the donut box behind his back. “I’m going to read your texts every day. Every hour, if you send them.”

She flushes harder. “I mean, I’m in the middle of exams—”

“I know.” He kisses her forehead like she’s a toddler and I try not to retch. “But it’s because we love each other.”

“Okay.” There’s a flash of exhaustion in her gaze, but then she forces a smile. “Absolutely.”

He gives her a huge hug while still somehow holding up a hand in farewell to our fans.

The guy in the Britney shirt screams his name.

“Parting is sweet sorrow, baby girl.” He pats her on the head then spins and climbs the stairs onto the tour bus.

Dan clucks nervously, and Maxim follows him onto the bus.

I wait for a moment, rocking back on my heels. “How’d your study group go this morning?”

“Okay.” She blows a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “I’m as prepared as I’m going to be. Tort law sucks.”

“It’s not about chocolate tortes?”

“I’d like it better if it were.” She smiles softly at me. “Are you excited?”

“Sort of.” I shrug, moving imperceptibly closer to her. She smells like coffee and freshly sharpened pencils. “I’ll miss you. Who am I going to watch slutty TV with?”

Lily eyes the groupies circling the tour bus. “I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“Not like you.” I bump her shoulder with mine and a warm flush spreads down my side.

“Bo!” Dan barks at me. “Time to go.” He points at his watch.

I jab a thumb toward the bus. “I gotta jet. Good luck on your exams, Lily. You’re going to do great.”

“Thanks, Bo.” She gives me a one-arm hug and I like it way more than I want to admit. “Good luck on the tour. I’ll be watching it online. Howl on forever.”

I wince unintentionally. My dad provided that little soundbite when he was interviewed about my rising success. Yet another way he enjoys stealing my limelight.

“Bye, Lil.” Then I tear myself away from the girl who isn’t mine and get on the bus to do the job that is.