Page 36 of Tone Deaf

“Umm—what? A he-shed? You mean a she-shed?”

“No. I mean it’s a he-shed—Danny?—”

“Don’t have to explain, I get it.” I smirk. “Thanks—but Pen…”

“Give him this time. He’ll be back tomorrow. Then tell him what the plan is. And Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“I know that peace of mind comes with control. But sometimes, not having all the answers and beingopenis what is needed for a relationship. I learned that the hard way,” Tobiasglances at me and gives one quick nod before walking away, leaving me contemplating my next step.

Although I see the truth in what Tobias just said, the knot of apprehension continues to grow in my chest. Right about now it feels about the size of a grapefruit. What if Pen comes back and tells me he’s done with me? Or he’d rather be only with Callum?

I shake those dark thoughts out of my head.

Focus, Rossetti.

Callum’s safety needs to come first. When Pen gets back tomorrow, I need to remind him of our goal, because if what Tobias said is true, then Callum is in bigger danger than I anticipated.

Until then, we need to be extra-vigilant, because with Pen gone, Callum’s protection detail is one man down and we’re more vulnerable. With Pen being pissed off at me, he won’t answer my calls or text messages. Although I don’t know how effective Pen would have been if he’d stayed, given his irrational frame of mind.

Then it hits me—Pen is in danger too, for going out on his own. He has done this before—retreat to clear his head. Just like Callum, he… Damn. Why haven’t I realized this before? Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the bassist, too. Though they seem different as night and day, some aspects of their personalities are eerily similar. Each time Pen has left, he was upset and needed to think, and when Callum was upset after our night together, he fled tohisretreat here.

And I know from past experience that when Pen is pissed off at me, he won’t answer my calls or text messages…which is exactly what happened when Callum ran.Jesus, I can’t believe I didn’t see this before.

This is all my fault. Why can’t I be open and share things about my past? Explain who Leo is. Tell Pen that I was in the Marines. Or tell him shit about my career as a U.S. Marshalbefore I was thrown out—hell, tell him about my sobriety. Who Rick is to me.

I got so caught up in what was growing between us that I ended up having tunnel vision. A year and a half into our relationship, and I’m just realizing I haven’t made time for just us. Time to tell Pen that I love him. Yes, I love Pen. Fair to say, I’ve never said those words out loud.

Pen’s correct that I’m a selfish bastard. I’ll rectify that starting tomorrow, I assure myself as I head to the house.

The next hour is a flurry of activity as we secure bags in the vehicles Tobias has rented. He even switched out the Bronco I rented earlier for a Suburban.

Once the band and their security finally say their goodbyes and leave, Fig goes back inside the house, while Jordan and Dean’s men guard the perimeter of the property. I remain planted on the walkway, glancing down at the keys Tobias gave me.

“Dom.” Fig calls from the doorway, which pulls me out of my thoughts. “Are you going to stand out there all day?”

Maybe.

I reluctantly meet Fig’s golden eyes, expecting to see condemnation. Maybe even pity. Instead, I see none of the disappointment I’m expecting. Only detachment. Which strikes me as odd, but I’ll take it over the other options any day.

“Callum’s asking for you,” Fig says. Did I hear annoyance?

“While you two talk, I’ll make sure Callum has his stuff in order so we can move out by nine tomorrow,” Fig says, then turns to go back in.

“What—who are you talking about?” I ask but Fig has already closed the door.

“I think he means me.”

I spin around and find Pen standing on the driveway.

“I had to come back,” he says evenly. “For Callum.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” I say with some warmth.

Pen’s chin tilts in defiance, and his arms remain folded across his broad chest. His rebelliousness has me smiling, even though that damn grapefruit is still in my chest.

Out of my periphery, I see a postal vehicle slowly coming up the driveway, but don’t think much about it, assuming that Jordan or anyone of Dean’s men would have cleared it. Until all hell breaks loose.