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No one has ever looked at me like that, and I’m beginning to think no one ever will. Not because they won’t want to, but because I might not know how to let them.

“Myra came over to ask you something.” Lydia tips her head at me, directing Christian’s attention my way, and he seems to notice my existence for the first time.

I lift one hand, giving him a little wave from where I sit. “Morning.”

Christian turns to me, focusing on me the way he has countless times before.

His respectful attention always drives home the difference between my before and my now.

It’s a stark contrast to what I’m used to, what I was raised to expect.

For as righteous and godly as the men from my old life claimed to be, there was nothing good or honorable about them.

They treated women like objects. Belongings.

Things to be coveted and desired and used.

And when they were called out, the blame was put on us. We were the ones responsible for their indiscretions.

“What can I help you with?” Christian keeps his eyes on me as he turns to the fridge, pulling out the creamer Lydia loves as he waits for my answer.

“I was just wondering—and you can absolutely say no—if maybe the next time you and Tate have a gig, I could possibly sing a song with you.” I say it casually, and avoid mentioning the name that might give away my unrequited—and safe—interest. But both my sister and Christian still stop in their tracks, eyes fusing to where I sit.

My sister’s the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “You want to sing again?”

I shrug, hoping to make it seem like I don’t really care. Like it was just a random thought that hit me while I was walking over. “I just thought it might be fun. But I know you guys have played together forever, so if you don’t want to mess that up…”

I begin backtracking. This was probably a mistake. Maybe I should just stick with being stagnant. It’s so much easier than trying to unpack all the baggage I’ve collected.

“Of course you can sing with us,” Christian answers before I can get out of the spot I’ve put myself in. “I think it would be fantastic.” He flashes me a grin. “I’m sure people are getting sick of hearing me sing all the time anyway.”

I snort, because I doubt that immensely. Christian has a great voice. One that brings women in from miles around. I’m sure there were plenty of hearts broken when my sister snatched him off the market.

He tips a bit of cream into Lydia’s coffee, caring for her like it’s second nature even though it goes against everything he was once taught. “We’re playing at The Cellar this weekend, so you had good timing.”

That sends all the blood draining from my face. “This weekend?”

Christian seems to notice my sudden panic, but he misreads the reasons for it. “If that’s too soon, we can wait until our next gig. No pressure.”

I force in a lungful of air and push what I hope is a smile onto my lips. “No. This weekend is fine.”

The performance isn’t what I’ll need time to mentally prepare for.

Christian beams at me, looking both excited and proud. “Awesome. Get me a list of songs you know and I’ll get with Tate to come up with a plan.” Leaning against the counter, he adds, “Simon won’t be here until the last minute, but he can play pretty much anything, so it’s not a big deal.”

My stomach twists. Or maybe it’s more of a flip happening in my belly. It’s also possible the tickly sensation would be what some people might call butterflies. Regardless, they’re all due to one, single word. A name I can’t seem to wipe from my brain no matter how hard I try.

“Yeah. Okay. Good.” I grab my cup from the counter and slide off the seat, backing toward the door.

“You and Tate can just pick the one you think will work best.” My hand hits the doorknob and I twist, needing a little bit of space.

Needing time to react to this new information alone in private, without my sister watching.

I’ve worked hard to hide my interest in Simon. The last thing I need is Lydia getting suspicious right before he comes home.

He’s coming home .

Christian’s brows lift. “One?” He gives me a wink. “I might try to talk you into at least a couple.”

“Great. Cool.” My mouth is on autopilot now, all my brain function focused on making my escape. “See you guys later.” My foot hits the stoop and I start to close the door, but then remember I’m not an ungrateful asshole. “And thank you.”

Once politeness has been accomplished, I rush to close the door, fighting to get a full breath of air. This is not what I was expecting. Simon hasn’t been home in three months, so I thought it would be a while before I’d have to face the music.

Face him.

I expected to have at least a few weeks to come to terms with everything involved in this new middle finger I’ve chosen.

I was wrong.

Clutching my coffee to my chest, I hurry down the steps, ready to escape into the building I call home.

I’m practically at a jog when I reach the sidewalk, every step coming faster and faster as I seek out the privacy I need to wrap my head around this new reality.

To smother down all the wild fantasies I’ve let run wild in Simon’s absence.

As I try to pass Tate and Piper’s house, I’m forced into a dead stop when a giant truck pulls into their driveway.

Frickety fuck.

The twisting in my stomach amps up exponentially as the truck and the fifth wheel it’s pulling come to a stop, the back end of the camper blocking my path and making it impossible for me to make a quick escape.

I still try.

My feet are on the curb and I’m about to duck around the backside of the camper when I hear the truck door slam behind me.

All the hair on the back of my neck stands up as awareness creeps over my skin.

“Myra?”

Simon’s deep voice hits me like a sledgehammer, the impact of it rocking me to my core.

The same core that was giving me fits not long ago. It chooses this minute to flare to life, tightening my nipples and sending heat pooling between my thighs. That’s what I get for occasionally letting thoughts of him creep into my morning ritual.

I take a steadying breath—knowing it’s not going to do me any good—before slowly turning to face one of the main problems I have with this new life that’s found me.

Lifting my chin, I attempt to look unaffected by Simon’s presence.

“Hey.” The word comes out way too fucking whispery, so I clear my throat and try again.

“I, umm, didn’t know you were coming to town.

” Even with a gig scheduled for this weekend, Simon doesn’t usually show up until the last minute.

That should have given me a few days to prepare.

Guess freaking not.

Simon ambles my way, my heart rate picking up speed with each step he takes. I swallow hard as my eyes trace a slow path down his long frame.

After spending a lifetime surrounded by men with pasty complexions, soft hands, and squishy middles, Simon is a shock to my system.

A wall of solid muscle and deeply tanned skin.

Rough hands that are usually covered in small injuries from his job as a welder, but are still so, so gentle.

Strong enough to carry me like I weighed nothing as we raced away from the misery of my past life, but his movements are still graceful and elegant when he sets the beat on stage.

He’s unlike any man I’ve ever met. I’ve spent months trying to forget his scent. The sound of his voice. The slow way his lips lift when he smiles.

Now it’s clear I didn’t come close to forgetting. At best, I simply ignored—all those things and more.

But there’s no way to ignore anything with him standing so close. Looking the way he does and smelling even better.

Reminding me how much I wish I could have him.