Page 206 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Mommy helped me pick out all the purple. I’m afraid of the dark, Daddy,” she murmurs, climbing into her bed and patting the place beside her.

“Is that why you have a lot of lights shining down on you?” I question as she snuggles into my side, looking up at me with those big, blue eyes.

“Mhmm. There’s a ghost in here,” she whispers with a slight hint of fear jumping into her tone. Her eyes dart toward the window above her bed, and she shudders.

“Ghosts? Well, I’m here now, Ladybug. Let’s scare them away.” She nods in agreement, handing over a large, used book with a bookmark in the middle.

“She marched forward with her bow at the ready, aiming to take down the enemy,” I say in a deep voice, only raising it when the character speaks her line. “You will step away fromher before I put this through your hands and mince your fingers for dinner.” Jesus. What is my child reading before bedtime? Looking down, Lyric looks up at me expectantly, silently egging me on to continue. And so, I do. River meanders in, leaves sandwiches in the middle of the bed, and walks out before I can say a word.

Over the next hour, I lay beside my daughter, nibbling sandwiches and reading about a strong, independent woman who kicks ass and takes names like nobody’s business. Also, she shows great interest in the two leading male characters. Many times, I turn to the blurb on the back, making sure I’m not about to read some crazy romance story to my four-year-old. As the clock ticks by, my eyes grow heavy until the thick book lands on my chest, and the world around me is darkness as my eyes close.

“Night, Daddy,” she whispers, snuggling further into my side.

“Night, Ladybug,” I murmur, falling victim to the perfect night’s sleep.

I thinkmy girlfriend is slowly trying to murder me. Not with a knife or poison. Nope! She’s slowly draining me dry, and I don’t know if I can make it any longer. And not the good kind of draining me either. I mean, she can drain my dick as much as she wants. If I had the energy for it, that is. I’m like a damn sack of potatoes heaving myself into bed each weekend.

It’s been two goddamn weeks of this. I think I’ll put an obituary in the paper and just announce my death ahead of time.

Here lies Rad. Gone too soon at the hands of his Pretty Girl, who overworked him night after night on stage.

When River said we’d have to perform every Saturday per our contract, I didn’t think it’d be like this. Hashtag–Radisdead. Hashtag–someonesaveme.

It’s all for the pact. Every one of her demands, we follow like good little boys. Now, if she’d only throw me a bone and reward me for my good behavior.

“Should I cut off my balls and put them in River’s purse now or later? I can’t decide,” I wheeze, lying flat on the ground,soaking up the cold tiles. It’s like running ice cubes all over my flesh, and it’s refreshing as fuck.

Kieran grunts in agreement or disagreement; I can’t fucking tell. Splashing water on his red face, he sits back on the leather couch, shaking his head. “I don’t know, but I think she’s trying to kill us.”

“More like punish us,” Callum murmurs with a pained groan, resting on the leather couch beside Kieran with ease.

“Why are your clothes off?” Kieran asks, raising a brow like he hasn’t known me since middle school.

Hello, being naked is like my damn calling card. Naked Rad has a ring to it, right? I can’t help myself. The moment I get on stage and the suffocating heat hits me, I need to take everything off. Fuck clothes. I’d rather live in a community where clothes were banished. Welcome to the Radalicious Naked Compound. Population: 5. Just me, the guys, and my Pretty Girl… And shit…we can’t be naked all the time. Oh, the sacrifices we make for our Little Pretty Girl and future babies. Because yeah, the second I get back inside of my woman, that’s all I want. Little me’s. Little them’s. Another little her. God. My dick springs to life at the thought, which is terrible, because I’m barely dressed. Not like they haven’t seen my dick flag fly.

“It’s hot as fuck. Fuck pants. Fuck shirts and socks. You’re lucky I still have my boxers on.” I lift my middle finger into the air, saluting the boys in more than one way. Oops. “If she keeps this up, she might,” I grunt, searching for a fan. “You guys see a fan anywhere? I need cool air on my dick like yesterday.”

If I don’t cool my nuts off soon, they will pop right off in protest and wander away, taking my dick with them. I swear they’re boiling inside my damn boxers.

“Do you think this is payback?” Callum murmurs, wiping the sweat from his face.

Kieran snorts. “It’s not like she can avoid us or get some sort of revenge for what we did.” His eyes cut to Asher sitting across the room under the ceiling fan. He hasn’t moved an inch since we got off stage and hasn’t spoken.

He’s retreating inside himself again like he did when we came to California. Back then, he focused on the music to escape her memory. And now, he’s doing the same and withering away right before our eyes. He may be an asshole, but it hurts to see him so beat down all the time. The good news is he’s moved back into his room at the band house. Since the moment we made the pact two weeks ago, we’ve been civil with him. We’ve had to be. He’s important to Lyric, and River to an extent. I will not jeopardize my future with my girls. Not one bit. So, If I have to be the nice guy, then I’ll be the nice guy. Besides, between therapy and group sessions, we’re really starting to hash some shit out and get back to the family we used to be.

Kieran’s rage has settled to nothing. He’s giving it his all and smiling more, especially when it comes to Lyric. Callum stopped fighting cold turkey and hasn’t had a bruise in two whole weeks. It’s odd to see him without the discoloration on his face or body, but I’m glad he stopped.

More often than not these days, Callum sneaks out around three and comes back at six covered in sand, with a goofy smile lighting up his face. I was starting to worry about my damn brother all the time. I knew one day I’d find him dead in an alleyway after mouthing off to some asshole on the street. Thankfully, it never happened. So, I can rest easy now.

“At least you bitches just get to sway and look pretty. I’m pounding my shit into the drums as hard as I can. God, I think I’m fucking dying.” I wave my hand in front of my face, trying to get cool air across my overheated skin. What I wouldn’t give for one of those glorious ice baths.

Ahh, yeah. Dip my nuts into the ice until they’re scurrying back inside me instead of trying to melt off. A guy can dream.

I love my Pretty Girl. I really fucking do. With my whole goddamn heart and body, I also know what she’s up to. She doesn’t think I do. Probably doesn’t think I’m as quick as I am. But I know she’s trying to get us back into shape. I’m an intelligent guy when I want to be.

But something has to give. It’s been like this since everything came to a head, and we made our pact to not fuck anything else up.

And this last stint of torture has been three long ass days.