He eyes me some more, lips pressed into a tight, thin line. It makes me want to square my shoulders.
“It’s all good, man,” Segan assures him. As if remembering I’m still in the room, he glances down at me before back over to Augustine. “Uh, this is Josiah.”
The judgy giant gives me a forced smile. “Hey, man. Nice to see you again.”
“Yeah, you too.” He nods once and promptly leaves the room.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Segan climbs out of the bed. He won’t look at me, his body stiff as he rights his clothes. The tension in here is thick, and it’s not a good type of tension like it was not even twenty minutes ago.
I get up too, pushing my shoes back on. “Well, I guess I should get going then if the tree’s out of the way now.”
There’s so much more I want to say, more I want to do, but if his body language is anything to go by, he’s not interested in more right now, and I’m not about to push my luck.
Segan finally glances over at me, something like an apology flashing in his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Be careful once you get on the main road. The water should’ve dispersed for the most part, but be careful.”
Leaving his house, it feels like we’ve taken a hundred steps back. Last night, he opened up to me in ways I never imagined, and then this morning, even more. But it’s like as soon as it was done, his walls were back up, impenetrable as ever.
28
SEGAN
I’m such a fucking dick. Shoving my phone, with the unanswered text messages, into my pocket, I climb into the back of Adam’s car before he sets off, driving me away from my house, toward the studio.
It’s been nearly a week since Josiah left my house in a hurry after giving me the best hand job I think I’ve ever received in my life. Not that it was hard to do, since my experience is so limited, butstill. After Augustine walked in, nearly catching us in the act, I fucking panicked. Everything became entirely too real. All the things I told him the night before. What we had just done. All of it was too much. I could’ve handled it better, but I don’t know, I blanked.
And now he’s been trying to talk to me all week, and I’ve blown him off every single time. I can’t face him. In my defense, though, Ihavehad a busy week with meetings and studio time. But fuck, I’m going to have to face the music at some point, and I’m only making it worse for myself in the meantime.
On the way there, we stop at the coffee shop, picking up drinks for the band and Fitz. It’s busier than I expected so early in the morning, making us a few minutes late.
Okay, more like a half an hour late.
Stepping into the building, several sets of eyes land on me, various levels of annoyance present in them. I walk up to Fitz first, handing him his drink as he rolls his eyes, pretending like he isn’t thankful as fuck for this cup of coffee. “Morning, Fitzy,” I greet with a smirk. “Sorry I was late, but I know how bitchy you get when you don’t have caffeine.”
Lips pressed into a thin line, he takes the drink, muttering a dry, “Thank you.”
I quickly pass out the rest of the drinks before we get started. The label wants to get the new album out as soon as possible, so we’ve been spending almost all of our free time here this past week. It’ll be my fourth album, and I can’t wait to get it out there.
It’s always nerve-wracking and a little overwhelming, worrying about if the fans will love the new stuff as much as they’ve loved my previous work. Especially since my last album is my best yet, having been the first to go Diamond. The pressure to top that is enormous.
When I first started performing at Neon Dreams Saloon on the weekends, never in my wildest dreams did I think it would take me even half as far as I’ve come. I’ll never forget waking up one morning and realizing someone had recorded me on their phone and uploaded it to YouTube. It went viral overnight, and ultimately, it was that video that got the attention from NCMS. I didn’t learn until after I signed with the label that someone had been in the crowd for three straight weeks watching me perform. And then everything happened so fast. Recording my first album, the tour, becoming a face thousands of households across the country—and world—knew. It was surreal.
The hours fly by, and when we eventually call it quits, it’s already late into the afternoon. Voss, Wade, and I decide to pick up some take-out from the pub down the block, taking it back to my house where we can eat and drink without a huge crowd. As soon as we make it to my house, Augustine slips out back to head to the gym, per usual, while the rest of us head to the kitchen.
“What do y’all want to drink?” I ask, reaching into cabinet, and pulling out the bottle of whiskey I plan to consume.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Voss murmurs, taking a seat on one of the stools in front of the bar.
Wade ambles over to the fridge, pulling it open. “I’ll just have one of these,” he says, grabbing out a chilled Bud Light.
Taking our food out onto my back patio, the sun is starting to set, splashing the sky in a gorgeous shade of pastel. The land is my favorite thing about owning this house. And how it’s outside of the city limits. Quieter and more peaceful than downtown, where I originally lived when I moved from Utah. Having your closest neighbors be a ways down the road instead of breathing down your neck, and getting to see and hear nature in its purest forms beats stoplights and traffic any day of the week.
The three of us have a couple more drinks after we finish eating, and I eventually start the fire. Rolling a blunt, I light it up, passing it around our semi-circle.
Wade takes a hit, holds it in as he passes it to Voss before letting the smoke billow out from his parted lips. Glancing over at us, Voss says, “A couple of my buddies from back home will be in town in a few weeks.”
Arching a brow, I reply, “For real? The cowboy ones?”
“Yup. The rodeo’s coming through, and they’re part of the circuit.”
