Page 3 of The Trust (As Above)
Mac
“I should get him something.”
I settle into the groove, sticks flying, feet peddling.
“Six months is not a valid gift-giving anniversary,” my band manager grumbles over the speaker. He’s standing on the other side of the glass, his scowl firmly in place, and already done with me.
Honestly, I’m not sure how the hell he doesn’t have wrinkles yet.
Must be all the stress relief .
Snickering, I meet Leo’s gaze though I don’t stop playing.
“But I’ve been in love with him for like seven years. That counts.”
He attempts to level me with a brow and reaches for a button on the board spread out in front of him. “I know the perfect gift.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“ Silence .”
My laugh burst out from my already clenched core.
“Let me say again—” I peddle a deep double baseline, “— seven years . He knew what he was getting with me. So did you, Le.”
Leo’s massive shoulders lift with his inhale, his cheeks puffing up on the exhale.
He fucking hates the nickname.
“Just hit the drums so we can get to the next thing. Please? Please .”
The corners of my lips lift up as I slam out a line that’s not even from the song I’m supposed to be playing.
Leo’s hands fly up and he walks away with a shaking head.
“Broby!” I call out and the bearded guitarist’s face appears on the other side of the glass. “I need ideas.”
He scrubs a finger over his mustache, then hits the button to talk.
“A ring.”
My sticks falter and I fuck up the progression.
“What?” I ask, but it comes out squeaked.
He pauses for a moment, his brown eyes boring into me and I suddenly feel like an animal at the zoo.
Or the weird kid in class that everyone’s staring at.
Like I’m up on stage for the first time, and though the bar is crowded, I’m alone.
On display.
Would Jordan even want that?
We’re still so new.
Not out in public.
I’m still his first relationship with a guy.
Would he freak out and run?
Is six months enough time to come to terms with all that?
Not to mention, despite us being together, it’s not like we’ve really …
dated. My band and I went straight into recording our next album after the accident and when I’m not in this studio, I’m getting my arcade ready to open.
And then Jordan has his gym that he runs, fixes, keeps alive mostly by himself.
We’re … busy.
My stomach churns.
The last time we tried for a date …
“Seconded,” my twin’s voice filters through, and I have to blink away the moisture collecting on my lashes at the reminder of the crash.
But then the halo of curls blocks out some of the light filtering in through the glass and my brother stands proud on the other side. Thick arms crossed over his thick chest. A knowing look lifting his brow.
Knowing because he was the first one I ever told about Jordan. The first one to hate on my bodyguard for not seeing it. The one to break Jordan’s nose.
Seven years ago .
“Bro,” I say but it cracks.
“You know that I know.”
He rubs at the center of his chest, though it’s mine that aches.
I choke my sticks and set them down across the hoop on the snare. I haven’t even been playing the right shit anyway.
“Know what?” I whisper and lick my drying lips.
“What it’s like to love someone so wholly, you can’t bear the moments without them.”
My heart thumps its agreement but there’s still something sticking in the back of my head. Something holding back my heart.
What if … he said no?