I pointed at Hollin, who cut the lights. We all hid behind the table at the back of the barn. A white tablecloth had been draped across the front, so none of us were visible. We’d practiced to make sure that Campbell wouldn’t be able to see us.
Weston pulled in tight next to me so that we were shoulder to shoulder. There was only enough light to see his big blue eyes. He squeezed my knee gently and shot me a wink. I was glad that he couldn’t see more than that because my cheeks flared red.
Then, the door to the barn creaked open again.
Blaire’s voice filtered through the opening. “It’ll just be a minute. Come on.”
Campbell grumbled something low, and then he was inside.
Hollin flipped the lights, and we all jumped up, yelling, “Happy birthday!”
Campbell’s face went from irritated to dismayed to a forced rockstar smile. “Wow,” he said, blinking into the lights. His eyes went to Blaire, who was smiling brightly. “You did this?”
“We all did.”
Then, he kissed her, and we all cheered a second time.
Music came on, and everyone moved onto the dance floor. Campbell walked around the room, thanking everyone for coming. When he finally landed on me and Weston, his smile dropped.
He punched West in the shoulder. “You motherfucker.”
West laughed and rubbed his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, ass, it was Hollin’s idea,” I said with a grin.
“What are you accusing me of?” Hollin asked. He pulled our brother into a hug.
Campbell rolled his eyes. “You decided on this party?”
“Me and Nora did. Aren’t you so excited?”
Campbell snorted. “Y’all are all assholes.”
“You know he’s in a mood when he pulls out the y’alls,” Blaire said.
Weston punched him back. “You should let us do this shit more often. Why are you so against surprises anyway?”
“I’m not,” Campbell lied.
Hollin and I shared a private smile. Campbell glared at both of us.
“Don’t fucking say it,” Campbell warned.
Hollin grinned devilishly. “What? About the clown at your twelfth birthday that scared you shitless?”
“The time you ran out of the house, screaming, when it jumped out at you?” I added.
Campbell looked to the ceiling. “Thank God I have siblings.”
Weston cracked up. “Oh man, I need this story in its entirety.”
“Not a chance,” Campbell growled.
Blaire shook her head. “Tell me about it later.”
“About what?” Julian asked, stepping up to our party. His brother, Jordan, at his side.
“Something about a clown?” Jordan asked.
I was lucky to have my cousins in Lubbock. Jordan and Julian were related to West on his dad’s side, but their mom was my aunt. So even though we were both related to them, we weren’t related to each other. And since Jordan and Julian had lived in Vancouver through my childhood, I’d never gotten to know them. But with them here and Jordan now engaged to Annie and Julian living with Jennifer, I knew they were here to stay. My family had shattered after my mom died, but it was starting to stitch back together after all these years.
“Fuck both of you,” Campbell said to me and Hollin.
We just hit knuckles. Ganging up on Campbell was half the fun.
The rest of the party dispersed as Campbell turned his attention to our cousins. I was left alone with West, and I knew this was the moment I should take.
Our eyes met. “Hey.”
“The party turned out great.”
“Thanks,” I said, on steady ground when talking about work. Though I knew I couldn’t let last night stand.
West had been gone this morning when I woke up. He’d left Gatorade, Tylenol, and a note that said, Hope you feel okay. Heading to the gym. —West. It was thoughtful, but I was sure it was also a way to avoid the awkwardness to follow.
“Sorry about last night,” I forced out.
“Sorry?”
“You know, about…getting super drunk and everything that happened afterward.”
He laughed and ran a hand back through his floppy, dark hair. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Nor.”
“You sure? I remember a very embarrassing almost kiss, where I then started laughing at how drunk I was.”
He grinned. Not at all miffed by that. “You remember that, huh?”
My cheeks heated. “I do.”
“Look, it was good to see you cut loose. You should do it more often.”
“It was nice to not think for once. Though I felt pretty dumb when I woke up.”
“I liked seeing you that way,” he admitted.
Something heated in my core at those words. He’d liked the loose, flirty, almost-sexy Nora Abbey. I’d liked her, too. I wished I could find her right now.
“Maybe we should do it again. I’ll be in the studio all week with Campbell—because he’s a workaholic—but maybe next weekend?”
“Sure.” I bit my lip. “I’d like that.”
“Good. It’s a date.”
I swallowed at that word. Date. A date with Weston Wright. Even if it definitely, absolutely, for sure was not a real date with Weston Wright.
9
Nora
True to his word, I barely saw Weston the rest of the week. He would come back in the evenings, guzzle water, and promptly pass out. He’d mentioned something about what he and Campbell were working on in the studio, but it was technical, and all these years with my rockstar brother hadn’t equipped me to understand. I’d thought the album was done. But there was a lot more that went into it when perfectionists like Campbell and West were working on it.
“Hey,” West said as he strode into the house, still holding his guitar.
“Hey, you got back early.”
“Blaire got irritated that Campbell’s home and spending every waking second on a new song even though the album is supposed to be done.”
I laughed. “That sounds right. Is the song good?”
“Yeah. Honestly, it’s absolutely necessary. We just didn’t know we were missing it.”
He tipped his head to the side, and I followed him into the bedroom between our two rooms. It had been converted into a music room with guitars, keyboards, an upright piano, and every other type of instrument I could name. Weston played all of them, including harmonica, saxophone, and trumpet. I had no idea how he could play them all.
He set the guitar into its position and sank down at the keyboard. I knew the piano would always be his favorite. He started to sketch out a melody. “What do you think of this?”
“Is this the new song?”
He shook his head. “Just something I’ve been working on.”
“I like it.” It was soft and lilting, strung together on a series of high notes. It drifted and spiraled and came back to the same tune again. “It’s beautiful. Doesn’t sound like Cosmere though.”
“No. Not for them.” His fingers continued as he stared up at me. My stomach flipped at that look. He was off in his own music dream world, and somehow, I’d been pulled into it like a tornado. My face heated at the connection. Then, abruptly, he stopped and looked away. “Something else.”